


Origin of All Revolutions

by TCRegan



Series: Ascension of the Wolf [5]
Category: Dragon Age II, Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Action/Adventure, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Canon-Typical Violence, Fluff and Angst, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-15
Updated: 2015-03-27
Packaged: 2018-03-18 00:56:51
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 26
Words: 43,454
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3550109
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TCRegan/pseuds/TCRegan
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Tensions in Skyhold are on the rise as the Inquisition gears up for its final confrontation with the Elder One and his forces.</p>
<p>Dorian and Fenris receive a visitor who brings tidings of a hopeful future for Dorian, and Fenris has to wonder what this means for <i>their</i> future.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Welcome back to part five, you amazing, awesome people who are still reading this beast of a fic. Thank you so much! I hope you enjoy the last installment. At the end I'll be posting/reposting all the amazing fanart I've been getting for this. Seriously, I've just been gobsmacked with how nice everyone is with that and the comments and kudos. In a short time this is starting to become one of my more popular series and I couldn't be happier!
> 
> The title is, of course, thanks to Vee who titles most of my things. So a huge thank you to my love for that. The title comes from this quote which is extremely appropriate for this part, and indeed all of Ascension:
> 
> "The origin of all revolutions and corruption, and the spur and source of all base morals are just two sayings: The First Saying: 'So long as I'm full, what is it to me if others die of hunger?' The Second Saying: 'You suffer hardship so that I can live in ease; you work so that I can eat.'" - Said Nursi
> 
> Enjoy. :)

Though glad to put the business of the Winter Palace behind them, there was one brief upset in the days following. Fenris, who'd been busy taking care of Dorian through his recovery, heard about it second-hand while visiting the tavern. Iron Bull laid out the details succinctly. Blackwall apparently was _not_ a Grey Warden, had never _been_ a Grey Warden, and was wanted for the murder of a nobleman and his family. The shocked whispers fluttered through Skyhold when Blackwall was returned to them and summarily judged. Anders granted him a full pardon for what happened, a verdict that was met with mixed feelings overall.

"The boss knows what he's doing," was Bull's conclusion to Fenris. "He helped me out of a tight spot, after all," he added, nodding toward his lieutenant Krem, and the rest of the Chargers.

Fenris relayed the information to Dorian who, much to Fenris's surprise, went to speak with Blackwall and presumably offer him words of comfort. Things went back to normal slowly after that, though Fenris noticed that Blackwall kept to himself a bit more than usual, despite Anders reminding him that he was still very much a part of their little group within the Inquisition.

Rumors flew about the Divine's replacement, names volleying around included both Leliana's and Cassandra's. Fenris wondered how the remaining members of the Chantry felt about that: members of the Inquisition being named Divine. But it seemed the dealings in Orlais garnered only favor for them as Anders brokered peace between the three players of the Grand Game. Having played no small part himself, along with a handful of other elves, the nobles were starting to look more kindly on the race. Briala, it seemed, would maintain her role of ambassador and work for the betterment of elvenkind throughout Thedas. Though, and Fenris was sure of this, that didn't include Tevinter.

But Tevinter _was_ watching them. Alexius and Felix wrote regularly to update them about the goings on of the Magisterium, the changes being put forth, and the public condemnation of the Venatori and the madman trying to make himself a god. However, the fact that the Inquisition was under the Imperium's watchful eye was made crystal clear on one afternoon. They were sitting in the garden, and Fenris was watching Dorian lose spectacularly to Cullen in a game of chess. Though mostly recovered, Dorian still had trouble with some of his motor skills, his hand jerking on occasion as he tried to move a piece. Cullen was good enough not to say anything, and Fenris would replace the pieces calmly as Dorian scowled at the board as if it personally insulted him. Anders did say massage would help, and Fenris thought about the pewter pot of lotion back in their room. It was simply a matter of waiting until he could pull Dorian away from his game.

"I didn't mean to move there. My hand jerked," Dorian said. "You see, still having issues with the electricity twinges."

"If this were a battlefield-"

"But it's not," Dorian insisted.

"If you were-"

A horn sounded, and Cullen leapt to his feet at once.

"Does this mean you forfeit?" Dorian asked.

"That's the front gates," Cullen said, worried.

It was confirmed when a second later a soldier ran up, slightly out of breath. "Tevinter soldiers, Commander."

Fenris got to his feet now, fists clenched.

"Venatori?" Cullen asked, touching the pommel of his sword.

"No, sir," the soldier said. "They're flying a white flag along with their own. I think they mean to parley with the Inquisitor."

Cullen raised an eyebrow, clearly confused. He looked at Dorian.

"Don't look at me," Dorian said, raising his hands in surrender. "I didn't tell them to come here. And Alexius would hardly arrive with a bloody _army_." He reached for the silver cane he'd been walking with while he recovered, and Fenris helped him to his feet.

Cullen looked back at the soldier. "Get the Inquisitor and have him meet the soldiers with an honor guard. Station archers on the walls in case it's a trap and get Leliana's people into position if they're not already. We'll receive them in the courtyard."

"Very good, Commander," the soldier said with a salute and a bow. He ran off to fill the order.

Cullen turned to Dorian. "We'll call this one a draw," he said, and hurried away.

Dorian scoffed. "Should be a win, in my opinion. He forfeited, clearly."

"It's a draw because of a third party army invasion. You're working together now to defeat a similar foe," Fenris explained. He was teasing, but it lacked any real emphasis due to the anxiety creeping up inside him.

"I suppose," Dorian conceded with a sigh.

They left the garden, Fenris happy to have his greatsword back, both arms now fully functional. Around them the castle was abuzz, and they saw Josephine stalk by, carrying her writing board stacked with papers. Her shoulders were set, and she looked irritated, though unflustered. Fenris was confused. Why would a Tevinter army be at Skyhold? They descended the steps from the castle and peered out over the courtyard. Two dozen horses carefully lined up across from one another. Soldiers carrying the official banner of the Archon with his seal – the image of a hooded ferryman – marched into Skyhold from the long stone bridge. They fanned out, standing in perfect formation as a warhorse, a beautiful black stallion dressed in plate mail, trotted up the line. Its rider was a proud-looking man, wearing robes of a deep olive green accented in black. He wore a thick cloak of blood red, the hood lined with fur. It was down now, revealing his black hair, which was streaked with grey. It was tied back sharply from his face, a perfectly groomed goatee giving him a severe look. A silver crown completed the look: two dragons twisted together and spouting flames made of rubies, creating an 'X' formation over his brow.

"Maker's breath," Dorian said in disbelief as they descended the steps with the others. "The Archon himself!"

Fenris had never seen this Archon or any past, but he didn't need to in order to understand what a great honor it was to stand in the presence of man like this. At least for Dorian. He personally wasn't sure how to feel about it. This was the man who allowed slavery to continue in his country. Who gave power to men like Danarius. Where atrocities were committed daily behind closed doors, he turned a blind eye. What in the Void was he doing here at Skyhold?

An elven squire ran up with a set of wooden steps and placed them carefully next to the horse. The solders turned toward the Archon as he descended, their boots clapping loudly on the packed earth. Fenris watched Anders, looking nowhere near as regal dressed in his usual day clothes and raggedy coat, moved forward to greet him. Dorian took Fenris by the hand and pulled him through the amassed crowd of curious Skyhold residents.

"Wait, what language is that?" Dorian whispered, as the Archon spoke to Anders, shaking his hand.

Fenris listened. It wasn't Tevene, but Anders looked surprised and answered in the same language, though it appeared to come more easily to him than the Archon.

"Welcome," Anders said in the trade tongue. "We weren't expecting… well. My advisors told me that you were interested in an alliance with the Inquisition, but I never thought you'd come here personally."

The Archon smiled carefully. "After what happened in Orlais, I thought it best to forgo letters and intermediaries and speak with the formidable Inquisitor himself. You've been doing great work, not the least of which is for my own country. On that, we must speak more. Perhaps somewhere less public."

"Of course!" Anders said excitedly. He looked at Josephine.

"We will clear the tavern, Inquisitor. There will be room for your advisors and the Archon's."

"Such a delightful woman. How efficient!"

Josephine tried to hide a smile, but it was clear she was pleased with the praise, and set off to ensure it was taken care of. Hawke on the other hand, did not smile. He was looking at the Archon suspiciously.

"Cullen," Anders said, gesturing. "Archon Radonis, the commander of the Inquisition's troops, Cullen Rutherford. We'd be lost without him."

Cullen offered a wary smile, and was surprised when Radonis stretched out his hand. They shook cordially.

"Commander," Anders said, "can you make sure the horses get fed and watered, and then see if Josephine can find some space for the Archon's men? And ah. The large guest room for the Archon himself, maybe?"

"Right away, Inquisitor."

"My right-hand," the Archon introduced, turning.

A soldier in full plate, Tevinter dragons emblazoned over a shining breastplate, stepped forward and pulled off a helmet fashioned to look like a dragon's skull.

"Claudia is the commander of my own troops. I hope you two will get along."

Claudia's dark brown hair was cut short, but styled, a band of green silk holding it back from her face. Her wide eyes and pouting lips gave her a look of innocence, and she couldn't have been older than mid-twenties. Fenris noticed a lack of blades at either hip.

"Knight-Enchanter," Dorian whispered. "She can conjure blades with magic. Not the rarest form of magic but when done right, deadlier than most who wield a sword. Not you though," Dorian added when Fenris grunted. "So young, she must've proven herself well."

The crowd parted and Anders led the Archon and a handful of others up the steps. Dorian moved to follow, Fenris trailing after him. Anders caught sight of them and nodded, gesturing for them to join.

"Part of my inner circle, I guess you'd call it," Anders explained to Radonis. "This is Fenris and-"

"Dorian Pavus," Radonis said, lips parting in a sly sort of smile. "We have much to talk about, I think, once my business with the Inquisitor is concluded. I look forward to that."

Dorian tried not to sputter. "I… Well. Thank you. I wasn't aware you knew-"

"I spoke with your father not too long ago."

"Ah."

Fenris urged him forward, hoping that Halward's conversation with the Archon was a _good_ omen. They followed Anders and Radonis up the steps and toward the tavern. Hawke led the way, Josephine standing at the door to usher them inside.

"We have an array of meat pies and stews," she said. "Nothing from Tevinter, I'm afraid."

"I would be a poor guest if I traveled outside my homeland and expected to be fed naught but what I'm used to, Lady Josephine. Whatever you have, and your best ale if I might indulge."

She curtsied and hurried to tell Cabot. A long table was set up in front of the fire and Anders gestured to a seat, taking one on the other side. Hawke took the spot next to him, eyes never leaving Radonis. Radonis unfastened his cloak and handed it to the elven squire, smoothing his robes. This close, Fenris saw that many rings adorned his fingers, and he had several golden hoops in his ears. Radonis removed his crown and the squire was there with a lock box that contained a pillow, and Radonis carefully placed it inside. Dorian quickly sat on Anders' other side, pulling Fenris to sit next to him. Fenris noticed a few others – Solas slunk into the room, and Cassandra took a wary seat next to Hawke. The ambience in the room changed when Bull emerged from his corner, several of the Tevinter soldiers reaching for swords or staves.

"Easy, I was just leavin'," Bull said, letting out a loud belch as he tossed his empty mug to Cabot. "Best you had yet so far, friend."

"I'll thank you not to draw steel on my companions," Anders said tersely, as Bull left.

"Apologies, Inquisitor," Radonis said, as two or three of his own men settled down next to him. "Tevinter has been at war with the Qunari since before I was even a thought in my father's mind. We're simply not used to one so… docile."

Dorian laughed. "Don't worry, he's far from docile." Then, as if suddenly remembering who he was speaking to, he quieted.

Cabot and two of the Herald's Rest servers began bringing over bowls of stew and mugs of ale. Jaded as Cabot was, he made no fuss about those he was serving, and Fenris wondered how much Josephine was paying him for this. After all, he seemed almost amiable at the change in routine.

"Well," Radonis said, "we've been so long on the road. Shall we eat first and discuss politics after? We should take this time to get to know one another, I think."

"By all means," Anders agreed.

Fenris started in on the thick stew, but couldn't help feeling a little uneasy that the Archon knew Dorian by name, and wondered exactly what he wanted to talk to him about.


	2. Chapter 2

Archon Radonis was a quick-witted and highly amusing man. He had anecdotes for nearly everything, speaking about his time in Tevinter when he was a boy, and he put everyone there at ease. Well, almost everyone. Fenris wasn't so easily enamored. Nor it seemed was Hawke, though he did chuckle at the stories of Radonis's younger brother, who always seemed to be annoyed with everything he did. Fenris wasn't sure what the angle was, if he was simply playing them like finely tuned instruments, or if he really was this charming. Though either way, he saw how the position of Archon was obtained. The Magisterium voted him in; he likely swayed them through intelligence and wit, or humor and good nature. 

"It's a shame you weren't born under the Imperium, Inquisitor. We don't see many healers. They're rather rare. And such a natural talent for it, calling spirits to aid you to mend your wounded. It's no wonder your men are so loyal to you."

Anders turned a little pink, and looked modestly at his mug of ale. "Well."

"It's more than that, though," Radonis continued as the bowls were cleared away and the cups refilled. "I can tell. You're a natural leader. When we heard about what happened in Kirkwall, you made the entire world take notice."

"That… that was sort of the point," Anders said.

From somewhere near the end of the table, Cassandra made a noise of discontent.

Radonis looked at her. "Lady Seeker, you don't agree with the Inquisitor's actions?"

"The Inquisitor and I have spoken at length about the failings of the Chantry and what could have been done to prevent the unfortunate atrocities in Kirkwall. Many of the abuses of the templars were covered up and hidden to protect the interests of the knight-commander, and reports of blood magic abuse were overwhelming."

"And now I hear your name is being put up for the position of the Divine of the Orlesian Chantry."

There was a quiet fluttering of murmurs among both groups. Radonis smiled easily at Cassandra. It was a challenge of sorts. It was well known that under the Orlesian Chantry, mentioning the Black Divine was sacrilege, and vice versa. For the Imperial Archon himself to acknowledge not only the southern Chantry, but a prospect for the throne, it was unheard of. 

Cassandra took it in stride, nodding. "This is true."

"As someone who's humble and capable, and will treat the mages outside the Imperium with dignity and respect, I do hope it is you who ascends and not another. And if it is you," Radonis said, raising his mug, "perhaps we can speak more about the unification of our lands. My people venture outside Tevinter warily. The Tevinter Circles can only protect them so much, after all, since mages are still so heavily persecuted."

Cassandra frowned. "We will see."

Anders, however, looked fascinated. "Would we be given the same courtesy?"

"Southern mages have always been welcome in the Imperium," Radonis said, looking somewhat scandalized. "Why, not so long ago, one of our own invited quite a few of your 'rebels' to apply for citizenship. Your patron," he added, looking at Dorian.

"Yes, he did," Dorian said, excitedly. He'd been leaning forward in his chair almost all night, looking eagerly for a way in to speak to Radonis. "Alexius was here with us when we handled the business with the… I don't suppose you've heard. Or did he tell you?"

"That your experimental magic worked, yes. I understand that he hasn't been able to duplicate it since then. Something about the rifts providing that extra power. We have scholars looking in on it but it appears the magic was an anomaly. However, for it to work, even under extreme and certain circumstances was-"

"Horrible."

Everyone looked at Fenris, who was frowning with that one word. Was he the only one who remembered how Danarius manipulated time? How he created a future that was absolutely awful? And while the Archon appeared to be a man on the up and up, if Fenris knew anything about politicians, it was that they always lied. They were always snakes. They always had a hidden agenda.

Radonis turned a bemused smile at Fenris. "Do enlighten us, Fenris – may I address you as such?"

"It's my name," he said flatly, ignoring Dorian's hand coming to rest gently on his knee. "I am an elf, as you no doubt have noticed. And like Cassandra, I speak plainly. I didn't care for the Grand Game when I was in Orlais, and I don't want to play whatever version of it you have going on here. The magic you talk about is dangerous, unpredictable, and the time we spent in the future created by my former master was terrible. I saw people I love die. I saw Alexius made Tranquil. The Inquisition turned to statues made of red lyrium, Danarius in control, an army made of demons. And if someone else had this power, someone like you, Archon, what would you do with it? Bring the Imperium back a thousand years to where mages ruled throughout Thedas? Where slavery was found in every corner?"

"Fenris," Dorian started, "I don't think that the Archon-"

"Let him finish, please," Radonis said, keeping his expression neutral as he nodded at Fenris.

"The problem is that it is not only mages that enslave others. The Orlesians will smile behind painted faces and laugh and call the servants 'rabbits' while pushing them into alienages or worse. And it's not just there. I saw the alienage in Kirkwall. In Antiva. Everyone's heard about what happened to the one in Denerim during the Blight. My former _master_ ," he spat the word with vitriolic hatred, "benefitted from it. He purchased three slaves that thought they were merely receiving treatment for a plague, and ended up being shipped off and sold."

"We cannot control what slavers-"

"Yes, you can," Fenris growled. "Magister Alexius buys slaves who've willingly decided to sell themselves, or families too poor to live properly in your _Imperium_. Most masters don't bother to ask where they come from. You can change it. You can change the law and make it illegal to _steal_ my people from the slums of other cities, and prosecute the ones who do!"

There was a brief moment of silent, and then Hawke banged his mug on the table twice. "Hear, hear! Well said."

Radonis smiled slowly before taking a sip of ale. "You bring up several good points and quite a few good ideas. We should discuss this in detail." He turned to his squire. "Fetch the scribe. We have a lot of work to do. In the meantime," he said, looking to Anders.

Anders, however, was not paying attention. He leaned back, reached around Dorian, and gripped Fenris's shoulder. Fenris looked at him, and accepted the encouraging smile with a nod. Anders turned back to Radonis.

Radonis frowned slightly, but it was gone just as quickly. "The most pressing matter at present is the terms of the alliance between the Inquisition and the Imperium."

Anders gestured at Josephine, who came over and took a seat. Fenris listened to them negotiate, discussing soldiers, the Venatori – it seemed Radonis was most interested in giving aid to put an end to the group, as he'd already publicly disavowed all knowledge of them – and the overall threat of Corypheus. Josephine and Radonis's scribe wrote quickly, comparing notes as the terms were discussed. It seemed that both sides were coming to a quick and agreeable conclusion.

"Once Corypheus is dead," Radonis said, "I must ask that you pardon one of your own from your service."

"My people are free to come and go as they please," Anders said. "With the exception of the two in my dungeons presently."

Fenris _had_ wondered if Anders passed judgment on Erimond and Servis yet.

"…Ex-communicated members of my own country. You are free to do with them as you wish. No, I was speaking about Dorian."

"Me?" Dorian asked. "Well I mean of course it's about me."

Fenris frowned. They were finally coming to the crux of it.

"We don't need this on record," Radonis said to his scribe. "No. Magister Pavus came to me in a bid to sell me on the idea of his son."

"The idea of me?" Dorian asked, confused.

"As my heir."

There was a quiet whispering among those at the table, except from Dorian, whose mouth had dropped open, and Fenris, who winced as Dorian's fingers dug into his knee.

"Is that… I mean, you're sure it was my _father_ that spoke to you, was it?" Dorian asked. "And it wasn't Magister Alexius?"

Radonis smiled benignly. "You give your father too little credit. Most fathers want to see their sons succeed."

Anders couldn't help but snort. "Sorry. Sorry," he muttered when he garnered looks. "I suppose it's true."

"If you were to enter the Magisterium – a position which your father has stated you don't look upon with favor – you would be disqualified for candidacy. And I've yet to name an heir. I've never been married, and have produced no bastard children otherwise. The senate grows nervous, and several hopefuls have come forth. I've met with all of them and so far, none seem very promising. You, on the other hand… well, I would like to speak with you privately on that matter, if you'd like to show me the castle? Inquisitor, perhaps we can meet tomorrow for lunch to talk further?"

Radonis stood, and the table stood with him, the meeting ending for now. Anders shook Radonis's hand, but hesitated.

"You've got a little… just…" He plucked what looked like fuzz from Radonis's sleeve.

"Oh. From my cats, no doubt," Radonis said with a slight smile. "I've thirteen back home, but two of them travel with me wherever I go. Crinitus is pregnant, and Barba pines for her when they're separate…"

"You… you have thirteen cats?" Anders said, and Fenris saw Hawke cover his face with his palm.

Radonis cleared his throat. "It's a large estate. They come and go."

"I would _love_ thirteen cats. Hawke," Anders said, turning to Hawke.

"One," Hawke said. "We can get one cat. To chase the mice out of the stables."

Radonis smirked. "Perhaps if we're here long enough, Crinitus will be good enough to part with one of her own. I'm sure we'll talk more about _that_ tomorrow as well. Inquisitor," he said, then nodded to Hawke. "Champion. Dorian, would you lead the way?"

Dorian stood, pulling Fenris to his feet as well. "You're coming with me," he whispered. "Make sure I don't make a fool of myself." Then, louder to Radonis, "Yes, right this way." He leaned on his cane, gesturing out the door as he went.

Fenris wondered if there was anyone in the world capable of fulfilling such a daunting task.


	3. Chapter 3

"You've suffered a recent injury?" Radonis asked, noting Dorian's cane.

"Electricity to the heart and brain," Dorian answered, frowning.

Fenris walked on his other side, listening to the conversation. Dorian limped slightly, but not as bad as it had been. He was standing on his own just fine and aside from the occasional muscle twitch, he really was doing much better. All things taken into account, Fenris was glad for this. Danarius could've done so much worse than he had.

"During battle?"

"Attempted kidnapping."

Radonis looked at Dorian, concerned. "Such dreadful business at the Winter Palace."

"It's not an experience I'd like to repeat anytime soon, true. The food was decent," Dorian added. "If Orlesian."

Radonis smirked. "Indeed."

"What… did my father have to say?" Dorian asked, glancing at him as they walked.

Skyhold at noon thrummed with activity. Recruits trained in the yard, practicing movements over and over, the lieutenants shouting orders. Soldiers and scouts alike patrolled the ramparts, bows at the ready just in case. In the lower courtyard, healers attended the wounded and sick, taking care of an illness that was passing through.

"He's talked about your accomplishments within the Circle and under the tutelage of Magister Alexius. You have quite an impressive resume. Naturally powerful with your magical abilities, and I'm told you've been a boon to the Inquisition. What made you decide to join?"

"I'd left home. I was looking for a purpose," Dorian said carefully. "We traveled. Alexius made mention of the Venatori, and the trail led us into Haven."

Fenris remembered. It seemed like so long ago that he and Dorian were on the road together, Dorian freshly disowned and struggling with the idea of being on his own. Fenris was there to help him, to joke with him, to listen to him talk about all the possibilities. They fell into the Inquisition, to be honest, and after Corypheus attacked Haven, Skyhold just seemed like the natural place for them to stay.

"The Inquisitor thinks highly of you."

"Well, he's a mage of no small talent himself. Of course he would recognize a kindred spirit."

Fenris smirked. No matter what happened, Dorian simply couldn't curb his arrogance. It was endearing, and Radonis laughed, apparently feeling the same.

"In the next few days I'd like to see some of that talent put to use. Perhaps we could go riding in the fields and you can put my men through their paces. So long as you promise not to fatally injure them," he added.

"I… would be honored!"

Fenris wondered if he was invited as well to this outing. Then a thought struck him. What if Radonis had intentions on bringing Dorian back to the Imperium before Corypheus was defeated? Would Dorian go? Would he leave him, Fenris, behind? And what would happen if Dorian pleased the Archon and took on the position of his heir? Would Fenris then be the future Archon's consort? Return to being his dirty little secret? Did Dorian's father tell the Archon the truth about them?

"Once you return to Tevinter, should I decide to take you on, we'll work on expanding your magical ability. I'm told you specialize in the inferno branch."

"It comes naturally," Dorian said.

Fenris was silently pleased he didn't make a joke about being, 'hot stuff'. Perhaps there was hope for him after all.

"After all," he continued, "others have to work to be as hot as I am."

Or not. At least Radonis managed a chuckle, and Fenris subtly gripped Dorian's wrist, warning him.

"One of the failings of our Circles is the lack of expansion in talent. While there's nothing wrong with focusing on the natural abilities, we need to be exploring all options. On one hand, if you're able to wield fire," Radonis said, holding his right palm out, letting it fill with flame, "that's excellent. But on the other," he held out his left, and a swirling ball of white snow hovered inches above his hand, "you should be learning its counter."

Fenris flinched, taking a step further away as the ambient magic caused the lyrium in his skin to alight. Radonis closed his fists over both, extinguishing them, and glanced at Fenris.

"I didn't realize that would cause you discomfort."

"Do you truly care?" Fenris said, before he was able to stop himself. He wanted this for Dorian. Even an informal interview with the Archon was an impressive feat.

They stopped walking, Dorian looking somewhat anxious, a crease between his brow, slight frown to his lips. Fenris turned to look at Radonis, keeping his chin level, eyes up. He was not a slave anymore, and would not cower before any mage, not even the most powerful one in Tevinter.

"I have no desire to make any companion of Dorian's uncomfortable with either my presence or my magic. I am aware that he values your opinions and your company, and I am willing to set aside the ideas of long-standing tradition and convention while I attempt to understand why he does so. If you wish to make this more difficult on him with unwarranted hostility when I offer, if not friendship, at least mutual cordiality, then I will have to urge him to reconsider certain decisions involving those with whom he associates. If he truly is interested in becoming my heir, that is."

Fenris glared, though he felt the shame that settled in his chest, the anxiety that came with Radonis's proclamations. "…My apologies."

Radonis nodded graciously and they continued to walk.

"I do," Dorian said suddenly.

"Hm?"

"Value his opinions and his company," Dorian continued. He shrugged away Fenris's hand that went to his wrist once again in a bid to stop him. "I suppose my father explained…"

Radonis airily waved a hand. "Yes, I'm aware, and I will need to draw my own conclusions on the matter. The Inquisition values you both highly. I remember the rumors and gossip regarding the experiments - and subsequent success - of embedding lyrium into the skin of a slave. I never personally saw a demonstration, though I know there were many given."

"Would you like one?" Fenris asked. He would have declined if Radonis asked, but this was _his_ choice. No one could order him to do it. Not anymore.

"Fenris, you don't have to-" Dorian started.

"I know. I want to." If he could push Radonis into seeing what he was, a capable warrior with unusual talents, a person with hopes and goals and ambitions, someone who was worthy of love and loving in return, perhaps then he would change Radonis's mind, maybe even change the mind of Dorian's father. He simply needed to exercise patience, and hope for Dorian's support.

"I would love one," Radonis said.

A challenge? Possibly. Fenris gestured to the stairs and they climbed the ramparts to an old, unused room. Fenris recognized it. Shortly after Anders and Hawke reunited in Skyhold, he and Dorian found themselves in here, discussing the particulars of their relationship. It was daunting, intense, and extremely intimate. He looked at Dorian now, smirking at the small blush that crept into his cheeks. Obviously he remembered as well, and Fenris gently squeezed his hand. Radonis waved off the small contingent of soldiers that followed them, and shut the door despite their protestations.

Fenris closed his eyes, easier to focus without seeing Dorian's concerned look and Radonis's vaguely interested one. The brands flared, a rush of buzzing in his skin that pulled and pressed as he shifted. If he had to explain how they worked, he wasn't sure he could. Like Anders and the Anchor, it was simply something that he did. Perhaps it was similar for a mage working magic. He focused, and the lyrium listened.

"Astonishing," Radonis breathed.

Fenris opened his eyes, holding out his arms which were a transparent, bluish-white that left trails of magical light behind as he moved. Radonis stepped forward, holding out his own hand questioningly, and Fenris nodded, letting him pass it through his ghost-like limbs. He shivered, feeling the magical energy radiating off Radonis, making the lyrium shimmer and shift and brighten.

"How much energy does that take?" Radonis asked. "How long could you hold that form?"

"I've never tested it," Fenris admitted, his voice quieter, sounding further away even to himself. He shifted forms again, phasing back, and smiled when Dorian came to his side at once, hand on his shoulder. He covered it with his own. "I'm fine."

"And you can tear a man's heart from his chest."

Fenris nodded. "That… seems to be the one rumor that most people hear. It's not pleasant."

"For either party, I would imagine," he said sardonically, smirking. "All right then."

Fenris wasn't sure what that meant, but the Archon seemed pleased, and opened the door. The relief from the soldiers at seeing their leader in one piece and unharmed was palpable.

"We'll speak more tomorrow," Radonis said to both of them. "I have a lot to think on."

Fenris watched him leave, then looked at Dorian, about to say something when Dorian lunged forward, kissing him breathless.

"What-" he managed, panting when the broke apart.

"Marvelous," Dorian said, grinning, and kissed him again, cupping his face. "Just-" a kiss, "simply," another kiss, "marvelous!"

"What?" Fenris laughed. "Because I showed off?"

"Because you showed him you weren't a… a… you weren't a slave. You weren't _my_ slave. In his eyes, you've elevated yourself. Or you will, I think, once he turns it over in his head. He's not unreasonable, I mean… if my father told him about my… Ah. Well. Disinterest in marrying and carrying on the line- My father!" His eyes widened. "I have to write a letter to him. And to Alexius. I need to thank my father. When he said he was going to 'arrange' things for my future, I thought perhaps an apprentice, maybe something dull and tedious like taking his place in the Magisterium. Wife or no, I would have to continue my duties if he took me back. But _Archon_ … It would be years, of course. I would need to prove myself worthy first of all to him and then work very hard to learn the position and-"

"Dorian, take a breath," Fenris said, leaning forward to kiss him again. "We need to focus on what's going on here first. He… won't expect you to leave before that's finished, will he?"

It was what he was worried about. Dorian leaving to go on to do great things, which he deserved. But being left behind to fight Corypheus? To work with the Inquisition without him?

"No, no I expect not. He wants Corypheus dead as much as any of us. A stain on the Imperium that it doesn't need. Once we hunt the bastard down, then I'll go. That's… that's assuming he wants me," Dorian said, and Fenris saw a flicker of uncertainty.

Self-doubt was rare in Dorian, but it wasn't the first time Fenris saw it. The arrogance Dorian carried wasn't misplaced. He _was_ powerful and capable. _And extremely attractive,_ Fenris's subconscious provided. But he was scared to let himself become even more than all that. Fenris grabbed his hips and pulled him close. He kissed him hard, delighting in the surprised noise that escaped Dorian's throat. Dorian relaxed, arms resting gently on Fenris's shoulders, and he was smiling when they finally parted.

"This is yours if you want it," Fenris said, nuzzling his cheek. "You know you're better than the others vying for the same position. The Archon came all this way to talk to _you_."

Dorian nodded. "And we did say that we would change Tevinter together upon our return. This simply gives us more opportunity."

Fenris smiled against his skin. "Yes. Now come. Anders said massage therapy is good for your ailment."

"Well," Dorian said, letting Fenris take his hand and lead him from the room, "I'm not going to argue with that."


	4. Chapter 4

Archon Radonis became a bit of a regular sight at Skyhold over the next several weeks. Fenris missed a lot of his visit, as Anders required his help in the Dales. He made Dorian promise to take care of himself and to be careful. With much trepidation, he left him to the capable walls of Skyhold and the Inquisition soldiers while he, Anders, Hawke, and a handful of others hunted red templars in the highlands. An area known as Emprise du Lions was overrun, and they marched to clear it out. Some very, very bad business occurred there, including a powerful demon, and a woman who decided selling people was a lucrative business. Fenris voiced his dissention loudly when Anders had her hauled back to Skyhold for judgment instead of issuing a sentence right there. Fenris offered to be executioner, thumbing the pommel of his sword in distaste.

For weeks they were out there in the thriving forest known as the Emerald Graves. Fenris listened to Solas as they walked, camped, and fought. He'd never heard of the story of the Emerald Knights, and delighted to hear the tales, sad as the endings were. Solas offered to take him into the Fade to see the battles they fought, but Fenris declined. He'd had enough of the Fade to last himself two lifetimes. But it was interesting, he thought, that these elves were so connected to their wolves, which they trusted and were trusted by in return. It boosted his own self-esteem, and made him feel connected somehow with the elves of old. He doubted Danarius knew any of this when he named him, or perhaps he did, and thought it ironic.

As he slept out under the stars, he wondered what Dorian was doing. Likely showing off for the Archon, and Fenris hoped he was impressing him and not annoying him. Dorian promised he wouldn't leave, that they would see this thing to the end together, and Fenris slept, clutching a blanket to his chest, lamenting the empty spot next to him. The days were easier to deal with the loneliness, talking with Solas or Iron Bull who – once Fenris got to know him – was actually quite witty, if a bit crude. Fenris listened to him and Solas play a literal mental chess game, and resolved to learn all the rules sometime.

And finally they returned to Skyhold to find Radonis gone, with best wishes to Anders, and two kittens waiting for him: a handsome black and grey striped tabby, and a beautiful white puffball. Fenris noticed the slightly exasperated look on Hawke's face, but the overenthusiastic cooing from Anders as he cuddled both brought a reluctant smile to his lips. Fenris left them to it, intent on dropping his equipment off, seeking out Dorian, and taking a bath. He opened the door to their room and was pleased to see his lover sitting at the desk, pen in hand, humming quietly to himself. Dorian looked up, and Fenris dropped his things, smiling tiredly. A second later, Dorian was in his arms, kissing him soundly.

Gauntleted fingers gripped Dorian's shirt, holding tightly. He missed him, but until this moment, he hadn't realized how much. When they parted it was with heavy breathing and broad smiles. Dorian made a face.

"Maker's breath, you stink."

Fenris laughed. "Some of us weren't in the lap of luxury the last few weeks with lavender scented baths."

Dorian smirked and pulled him further into the room, taking his bag and shutting the door. He started to help Fenris out of his armor. "What was it like?"

"Cold. You would have hated it."

"Mm. You're probably right."

Fenris watched as Dorian unbuckled his armor, carefully stacking each piece. "We took down quite a few red templar bases and Anders got information on the general. Samson. It… you really don't want to know what happened. Or how they manufacture the lyrium."

Dorian looked up from where he was kneeling, removing one of Fenris's greaves. "No, likely not. Stuff of nightmares?"

Fenris nodded. "How were things here?"

"I've been writing about ten pages of notes a day. Things that the Archon has mentioned, areas of study on which to improve. I was thinking about asking Anders to train me up in the healing arts. Maybe talking to Solas a bit more about his technique."

Fenris took his hands and pulled him up. "You're moving without a limp now. How's the pain?"

Dorian shook his head. "Gone mostly. Had a lot of trouble sleeping but I think that was your fault."

Fenris smirked. "You could have come with."

"No, thank you. Do I look like I would enjoy traipsing through the freezing cold mountains to rid the countryside of red templar monster things?"

"Perhaps not. But you fared well without me?"

"I started to miss the nightly massages," Dorian said, taking him around the waist. "You know, for my recovery. But as it turns out, the Commander has very strong hands and was happy to- Oh. You're growling!"

Fenris was in fact growling, a very dangerous noise low in his throat. He knew Dorian was merely teasing, but the thought of someone else's hands on Dorian, even for something as innocent as physical therapy, angered him.

"Just kidding, Fenris. You know the Commander is straight as an – oomph!"

Fenris slammed him against the door, kissing him roughly, grabbing his wrists and pinning them above his head. "Don't joke," he said quietly, eyes narrowed.

Dorian nodded, licking his lips. "I like working you up though. When you treat me rough. Mark me."

Fenris sighed, nuzzling his neck. "Tonight, then." He released him. "I will show you who you belong to."

Dorian actually shivered, leaning forward as Fenris stepped away. "Well, you do need a bath first. The bedding was just laundered, after all. Shall I join you?"

Fenris pulled out a fresh outfit and tucked several necessities into a canvas bag. He missed the plumbing of Alexius's estate, the waterfall baths and the dragon head showers. But the natural hot springs under Skyhold were relaxing, even if they didn't afford the privacy they were used to in Tevinter. Dorian was an exhibitionist, never minding being naked in front of others. While Fenris knew he wasn't ugly by any stretch, he was still self-conscious about his markings, which decorated his entire body.

"I think it's best I not let you out of my sight for at least a week," Fenris said, taking Dorian's hand and pulling him from the room. "Lest you get any ideas about asking Cullen for help."

"Please," Dorian said, allowing himself to be led, entwining their fingers, "as if I need anyone but you."

Fenris smirked, glad to finally be back at Skyhold.


	5. Chapter 5

Everyone said Dagna was an unusual dwarf. Not that Fenris knew many dwarves personally, but he learned he had her to thank for the upgrades in his armor. She and the smithy were working overtime, preparing for the next conflict with Corypheus, though their scouts hadn't found anything more than whispers at the moment. Fenris knew that he was receiving better than the standard issue plate mail, and decided one afternoon that he would ask her about the runes in his sword. At first they would activate, sheathing the blade in a crackling bit of lightning, but lately the shine of the silverite was lackluster, and the runes not responding the way they used to. The leather grip also needed rewrapping. While he had the skill to take care of most of the issues, she'd done such a good job on his armor that he wanted to meet with her personally.

Gathering his sword and sheath, he left their room, knowing Dorian wouldn't be back until late. He was spending more time with Fiona, Solas, and the other mages of Skyhold, trying to learn everything he could and commit it to memory. While Fenris was happy to support him, the increase of magic in the air made his markings ache more than usual. He thought about asking Alexius what he thought, perhaps even seeing if he had the time to venture south to come see both himself and Dorian. Danarius mentioned the 'upkeep' of the lyrium brands some time ago, and he wondered if it was just a lie to try to hold sway over him. Lately, he wasn't so sure.

He weaved the halls of Skyhold, the layout now as familiar to him as Alexius's estate, and climbed the steps to the great hall leading to the undercroft. Anders was coming toward him, head down. In his haste, he didn't see Fenris, and knocked into him. He whirled at once, glaring, opened his mouth to say something, then shook his head.

"Sorry," he muttered, and stalked away.

Fenris wondered just what in the Void that was about. A fight with Hawke? A war room meeting that went badly? Figuring he'd find out sooner or later, he shrugged it off, and he crossed the great hall to the passage that lead down to the cold, open undercroft. The smell of leather hit him first, then the feel of static electricity in the air. He opened the door and watched as blue and white sparks flew, landing on the stone floor before fizzling out. Harritt, the blacksmith that followed them from Haven, was standing as far away from Dagna as he could possibly get, looking over on occasion as he hammered out a piece of armor.

"Dagna!" Harritt yelled.

"What?" She turned, holding what looked like a piece of bent metal tubing in her gloved hands. At the spout of the tube was a white-hot flame. She wore a metal mask with a glass peephole; a poor construct for battle, but sufficient for… whatever it was she was doing. She followed Harritt's finger, which was pointing at Fenris. Turning a knob on the metal tube, the flame extinguished, and she flipped up the mask, grinning. "Hi!"

"Er. Hello," Fenris said, glancing at Harritt, who shrugged and rolled his eyes as if to say, 'You get used to her.'

"Well, come in!" Dagna said, putting her fire-tube down. "Nothing's gonna get done with you just standing there with your jaw on the floor."

Fenris descended the steps, looking around. It had all the normal trappings of a regular blacksmith's, a forge, a grinding stone, a tanner's rack. Metal ingots in all different sizes and types lined the walls and stacks of pelts and leather scraps were everywhere. Dagna removed her gloves and met him halfway, reaching out for the sword.

"Whatcha got?"

"I… it's a sword."

"Well I can _see_ that," she said, grinning. She took it and unsheathed it, her eyes widening. "Top craftsmanship! Tevinter runes, Antivan leather, purest silverite I've ever seen. Specially engraved. You keep it in good condition but it looks like it's seen better days."

"It has. It's… special to me."

"I'd imagine it would be. Come on. We'll see what we can do," she said, waving him over to a workbench.

Fenris followed, watching her set the blade down after clearing the bench. "What were you working on?" he asked, curious about the sparks and the fire-tube.

"Oh that? Rune for the Inquisitor to destroy Samson's armor. Kind of dangerous. Red lyrium. I wouldn't touch it."

"…No, I wouldn't. Did he just come to see you?"

"He did! Wanted to know the progress. I've been working hard but there's not a lot of research on the red lyrium, aside from what Maddox already found and most of _his_ notes went up in the fire-"

Fenris head was spinning slightly with the information. "Fire?"

Dagna waved a hand before unwrapping the black leather handle. "Long story."

"Is that why he was agitated?" Fenris asked, taking a seat to watch her work.

"Nnnnope," she said, pulling on a pair of goggles that magnified her eyes. She leaned forward with a small chisel and hammer, and started to remove the runes from the onyx hilt. "Probably upset because Maddox chose to die rather than reveal any of Samson's secrets. Or maybe," she grunted, prying up one of the runes. It crumbled. "Dang it! Well. We can replace that."

"Maybe?" Fenris prompted.

"Maybe," she said, starting in on the next, "because Varric's girlfriend was the cause for the surge of the red lyrium on the surface."

Fenris frowned. "How?"

Dagna shrugged. "If you want the details you should ask the Inquisitor. But… I wouldn't suggest it. I heard him yelling earlier. Funny, you never hear him yell like that, do you? It's always Hawke. But Hawke just looked… sad. I guess. Disappointed." She shrugged. "They have some kind of history with Varric."

"Hm."

"Yeah, I _definitely_ wouldn't bring it up unless you want to get on the Inquisitor's bad side."

"No, I'd rather not," Fenris agreed.

They sat in silence for a bit, Fenris examining the bits and pieces on the workbench as Dagna removed the hilt and pommel, leaving the blade behind. He watched her rewrap the leather and polish the damage to the hilt.

"This is a really, really excellent sword," she said. "How much did you pay for it, if you don't mind my asking?"

"I didn't. It was a gift from my master."

Dagna frowned, her hands slowing, stilling, then stopping altogether.

"It's… he's no longer my master," Fenris tried to explain. The relationship he had with Alexius was easier to explain to someone from Tevinter. He didn't expect Dagna to understand. "He freed me. He's a good man," he finished.

Dagna shrugged a little and grinned. "That's good, then," she said, and continued in her work. "So you're… from Tevinter?"

"I don't mind talking about it," he said, as she obviously had questions.

"Is that where you got your markings?"

_That_ he minded talking about. Even though he'd taken to wearing long sleeves – almost a necessity in Skyhold's mountainous and snowy location – the markings still showed through the darkest of fabrics. He shifted uncomfortably, drawing his cloak around himself.

"Sorry. Was that… that was invasive, I guess?"

"A bit." He sighed. She hadn't meant offense, and couldn't have known. "It's fine. They're… part of my past that I don't like to remember. They're lyrium embedded into my skin, and give me unique skills."

"Can… I see?" she asked, hesitating. "It's all right if you don't want to! I asked the Inquisitor for a piece of him and it… well, it came out wrong. I did get a sample, though!"

"Er… sample?"

"Hair and a swab from the inside of his cheek. You'd be surprised what you can see under intense magnification! But I wouldn't ask for that from you. But if I could just look?"

Fenris glanced over to where Harritt was still hammering away, and looked back to Dagna, who put the finishing touches on the grip before opening a drawer full of blank rune stones. He hesitated, but rolled up the sleeve of his left arm and extended it. Her eyes widened and she leaned over, her magnifying goggles nearly touching his skin.

"Do you remember how they did it? Needles, I expect."

"I assume. The process was… agonizing and I don't remember."

"Well it makes sense," she said. "Sounds awful," she added, frowning. "They look like they're… hm."

"Hm?"

"Leaking. But that's a poor way to describe it. Does it hurt to touch them?"

"Sometimes," he admitted, and thought about Dorian. When they were together, holding one another, kissing, he didn't think about the aching. During the times in which they were intimate, he was usually too distracted to notice if he was in any pain. And when he fought, he used them without too much discomfort. Then again, he was distracted during all those times. It was only when it was quiet, when he came too close to magic, that he noticed the pain.

Dagna hummed again and shifted through a box, pulling out a long metal rod with a blue-white crystal at the end of it. Tapping it twice against her palm, it started to glow, the same color his markings did when he used them.

"Tell me if this hurts."

He braced himself, and she drew the crystal down the lines on his palm, down his fingertips. His markings glowed dully, and they felt warm inside his skin, but there was no pain. She did it again, then again, following the lines slowly before looking closely.

"It's a lyrium crystal that I modified through some extremely old rituals I studied when I was in Kinloch Hold."

"Kinloch? The Circle? You were with Anders?"

"We never met there," she said, a little distracted, then looked up at him, her eyes oddly shaped behind the goggles. "Where do you think I learned all this stuff?" She grinned and looked back down. "Of course dwarves can't do magic but I think I mostly found ways around it. I'm working on improving the runic power of a set of gauntlets to shoot fireballs like mages do. The first test is always fire. Can't master lightning or anything else if you can't do fire! Flex your fingers."

He did.

"Shouldn't hurt as much now. It's like… hm. Okay, you know how some people get regular tattoos? You see them a lot on pirates."

"I suppose, yes."

"Well the ink in the skin fades. But lyrium doesn't fade. It reacts to everything around it, right? The red stuff's even worse. Thank the Ancestors you didn't have _that_ put into your skin!" She laughed.

Fenris offered a weak smile, feeling a little sick.

"But it looks like they're… sort of breaking down a little. I think my little gadget can help though. Tell you what. I'll give this to you." She held it out and he took it tentatively. "It's safe! Promise. It's diluted enough that even a mage can touch it and nothing bad will happen. The metal is infused – well, never mind. You don't want to hear about the long and arduous process. Do you?" she asked, lifting her goggles up.

"I, er… perhaps another time."

"Sure, sure! Anyway, I would recommend pressing it along the skin maybe three or four times. The lyrium inside you is drawn to the crystal, and it reforms nice and tight. Like. Hm. Like dragging a magnet over metal shavings. But if you have the markings everywhere – do you?"

"…Mostly."

"Then you might need a hand. But I guess you've got _that_ covered!" She winked and grinned. "Ah, I'm just messing with you. Okay. I'll have your sword back to you by the end of the day. Now shoo! And if you need another crystal, just let me know!" She pulled her goggles back down and waved him away.

Fenris left, carefully turning the metal instrument in his fingers. He wondered if it would help. Dagna seemed to think it would, and despite her eccentricities, he was inclined to believe her. Hopeful now, he went to find Dorian.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I was really, really pleased to have some Fenris and Dagna interaction in this fic. After writing Soldiers of the Wasteland where they're good friends, I just was very happy to see them together again. Hope you guys enjoyed reading this as much as I did writing it!


	6. Chapter 6

"Not that I needed another excuse to touch you," Dorian said, straddling Fenris's thighs, "but are you sure this will work?"

Fenris lay prone and naked in their bed. Normally he would be quite pleased with this arrangement, but anxiety sat like a cold and leaden stone in his stomach. "So I am led to believe. It doesn't hurt. It feels… odd."

"You should have told me your markings were causing you more pain than usual. I wouldn't have let you leave for the Dales."

"Hn."

"Don't take that tone with me. Just because you fancy yourself the protector in this relationship doesn't mean I'm simply going to allow you to wallow in pain and agony because you think… I don't know. That you think you deserve it some other foolish notion. Now, we'll start with the fun parts."

Fenris laughed, feeling Dorian guide the crystal along the lyrium lines on his thighs, shivering as it scraped gently across his backside. He wondered what type of magic Danarius used to keep them from breaking down, and found that he vastly preferred this to the painful procedure he'd been put through. Dorian's touch was welcome and intimate, and while Danarius ordered the other house slaves to massage him after, everything about it was clinical and cold. Dorian was careful not to apply too much pressure, going over each line several times, marveling as they glowed softly.

"You are quite beautiful."

Fenris blushed, half-burying his face into the pillow. Dorian may have lavished him with compliments, but those that referred to his physical appearance always made him squirm slightly.

"I'll have to ask Dagna more about this," Dorian mused, letting his fingers trail the skin between the markings. "It wouldn't hurt to learn, I think. Something else with which to impress the Archon upon our return."

"Mm." Their conversations of late veered more often than not to their return. Perhaps it was something in the air, but the general feeling around Skyhold was that Corypheus would strike again soon. He'd been too quiet for far too long. Fenris wasn't sure how they hoped to kill something that Hawke and Anders had already killed once before, but with Empress Celene's arcane advisor working with them, they would find a solution.

"You've gone quiet."

"Enjoying this," Fenris muttered. And he was. Aside from the occasional tickling sensation, it was pleasant.

"Did Dagna say how often this would need to be done?"

"No. She dismissed me shortly after."

Dorian laughed. "From what I know of our Arcanist, that does sound like her." He leaned over and kissed the spot between Fenris's shoulder blades before starting work on his back.

They fell silent with only the occasional contented noise from Fenris. His markings were warm and he felt sleepy and comfortable, like he did when he sunk into the baths. Dorian shifted every now and again to reach another part of him, or to move back to continue down his legs. Fenris was nearly asleep when the touches stopped and he lifted his head, looking back.

"Hm?"

"This side is done. Though I hardly mind the view, you should roll over."

Fenris stretched and did so, Dorian kneeling up so he could.

Dorian smirked. "Now _that_ is a much nicer view."

Fenris laughed, his own eyes raking over Dorian's naked form. It was the longest they'd been naked together without doing anything, and it was quite obvious from Dorian's state of semi-arousal that he meant to rectify that.

"You promised you would help," Fenris said, stretching again, only this time it was to tease.

"After you just ravished me with your sultry gaze? I saw you. I know what you want, you harlot."

"I _want_ you to finish," Fenris said with a raised eyebrow, amused at Dorian's choice of words, especially when _he_ was so often the insatiable one. "Or would you rather I shy away whenever you cast magic?"

Dorian scoffed. "I don't like this emotional blackmail thing that you've learned. It's unbecoming. But very well. If you wish to deny me, I shall resist a bit longer."

Fenris watched him through half-lidded eyes, trying not to shiver when the crystal drew too close to his nipples. A groan worked its way from his throat when Dorian dragged it over his neck, as if the crystal coaxed the noise out itself.

"Out of all the dirty books on sex that I've read, did you know not a single one of them says a damn thing about this type of foreplay? Oh, they suggest feathers and silk scarves of course."

"How many books on sex have you read, exactly?" Fenris asked, watching Dorian move back so he could do his legs next.

"Oh, let me think," Dorian said, tracing one thigh. "Hm. All of them."

Fenris laughed. "Here I thought you wouldn't need them." He spread his legs and gasped when the crystal came very close to brushing his prick.

"On the contrary, they're the reason I'm so very good at what I do now. That and practice."

"Hm."

"Oh don't be jealous. It's not as if I've been with anyone you know."

"Still." Fenris frowned, folding his arms behind his head.

"You are all I need, _Amatus_ ," Dorian said, kissing the inside of his thigh.

Fenris smiled. "Good."

He closed his eyes and let Dorian continue, twitching a bit when he moved down to do the circle patterns on the tops of his feet. He yawned and looked down, watched Dorian put the crystal device on their desk, and raised an eyebrow when he returned, coming to hover over top of him.

"Something you wanted?"

"Something, perhaps," Dorian agreed, kissing him softly.

"Mm. And what is that?"

"How about," he whispered, nipping his earlobe, "you let me ride that gorgeous cock that's been begging for my attention all night?"

Fenris tilted his head, sighing happily as Dorian continued to trail kisses down his neck to his shoulder. "Yes."

"Really?" Dorian asked, hands on either side of Fenris's head, looking down at him.

Fenris nodded. He laughed at Dorian's enthusiasm as he sprang off the bed to pull a wooden container from their dresser. He knew there was an array of massage oils and scents and the pomade or whatever it was that Dorian used to perfect his hair in the morning.

"Eager?" Fenris asked, amused when Dorian resumed his position, hovering over him.

"Maker's breath, Fenris, you have no idea." He kissed him gently, then purred, "How do you want me?"

"I… ah…" Fenris had no idea. Danarius only ever took him one way, and that was face down on his hands and knees. "You choose?"

Dorian smiled and kissed him again, then unscrewed the lid of the jar. "All right. Prop yourself up a bit. Shall we go right to the good part?" he asked, dipping two fingers into the sweet-smelling massage oil.

Fenris pulled the pillows close underneath him so he was reclining. "Yes, I think so."

Setting the jar aside, Dorian straddled his hips and, eyes never leaving Fenris's, he brought his hand back. Fenris wasn't able to see it, but watched Dorian's lips part before they curled into a smile. He reached up, palms against Dorian's chest, dragging his fingertips down.

"What does is feel like for you?"

"Not nearly enough," Dorian admitted. "I'd rather have you."

Fenris knew it would be different when Dorian took him. And he would let him someday. Right now he was pleased that Dorian didn't mind it this way, that he was excited about it, and didn't think he was lessening himself to be on the receiving end. His hands moved lower, sliding down to his hips, his thighs, and he reached over to the jar, taking a bit of the oil into his palm before he started to stroke Dorian's cock.

Dorian let out a shaking breath, trying to concentrate, free hand fisting in the sheet. "You could help," he suggested.

"I've never, ah…"

"Well it's not bloody complicated," Dorian laughed.

Fenris rolled his eyes but stopped stroking him, taking more of the oil before reaching between his legs. Dorian nodded, and Fenris found the spot, sliding his finger slowly inside Dorian, next to his lover's own.

"Good," Dorian muttered. "Good. More."

The bed creaked slightly with Dorian's movements, his breath coming in quiet gasps. Fenris watched him, eyes closed, brow furrowed, lips parted. _He_ was the beautiful one. Dorian's hips jerked and he laughed shakily.

"What?" Fenris asked.

"The curl of your fingers. There's quite the pleasant spo- AH! Fuck… That's the one," he said as Fenris did it again. "Cheeky bastard." Then, almost a growl, "Do it again."

Fenris smirked, feeling quite good, his own cock twitching, hard now and ready from watching Dorian get off on just their fingers. Deciding that was enough though, Dorian pushed his hand away and stroked him gently, adding more oil.

"It's been awhile," he admitted. "Tell me if it's too much for _you_ , though."

Fenris swallowed and nodded, accepting the kiss, breaking off with a quiet gasp as Dorian steadied his cock, feeling the pressure around the tip as he lowered himself. Fenris gripped Dorian's thighs, head back and pressing against the pillows as Dorian slid down lower and lower. His abdomen tightened, muscles tensing as he tried to get used to the sensation. Fluttering kisses pressed against his eyelids and he opened his eyes, looking down.

"How does it feel?" Dorian whispered.

"Good," Fenris managed. "Really very… Don't move!" he begged, as Dorian lifted slightly. He was still getting used to the feeling, and if Dorian started now, he might have come right then, a tingling that started at the base of his spine and radiated outward. "I… just need…"

"You have it. Anything."

Fenris looked up at him, breathing heavily despite not having moved very much at all. It was overwhelming, and he closed his eyes again. Dorian tightened around him, and he felt his toes curl. He moved his hands from Dorian's thighs to his hips, and nodded. Dorian began to move, lifting up slowly and back down, and Fenris forced his eyes open, wanting to watch.

"Gorgeous," he breathed.

Dorian laughed, leaning forward and grabbed onto the headboard for leverage, sweat starting to glisten on his skin as he moved faster now. Fenris couldn't talk anymore, hips thrusting up to meet every movement. He let his hands slide over Dorian's sweat-slicked chest, down his body to his cock and stroked. Dorian let out a whimpering moan, thrusting into his hand even as he pushed himself forward and back. One hand pressed against the pillow near Fenris's head and Fenris turned, kissing his thumb, licking it, bringing it into his mouth, teeth grazing, tasting the salty skin as he tried to hold on. It was too much too fast, Dorian was too tight and he was overstimulated from the use of the crystal on his markings. He'd never felt anything so good, and he knew he wouldn't last long.

"Dorian," he warned him. "Dorian." He repeated it once more, a breathless word that contained all the emotion he felt for his lover. He squeezed his eyes shut, tears pricking at the corners as he tried to hold on. He thrust up once more, his hips meeting Dorian's, and came hard in a rush, vision behind his eyelids like stars. Then, to his surprise, it came again in a wave and he felt his second orgasm as he tried to thrust again, hips lifting up off the bed, bringing Dorian with.

"Sweet merciful Andraste, Fenris!" Dorian managed.

Fenris felt a rush of cool air on his prick as Dorian moved off him. He remembered to breathe, and when he opened his eyes, he saw Dorian stroking himself quickly. He reached up to help, but Dorian batted his hands away and came, spilling warm and ropy semen over Fenris's stomach and chest. Fenris laughed, cutting off with a gasp when Dorian smirked and leaned down, trailing his tongue through the mess. He kissed Fenris deeply. Fenris groaned, lifting a tired hand to the back of Dorian's head, gripping his sweaty hair, holding him in place. He rolled them over, sticky with sweat and come, and broke the kiss in order to bite down hard where Dorian's neck met his shoulder.

"Ow! What was that for?"

"Mine," Fenris growled.

"Well yes, but you don't need to mark me like – AH!"

Fenris did it again, hips thrusting, cock soft but sensitive, and Dorian's legs spread at once.

"Fuck," Dorian breathed. "Fuck. You can't… you want another round?" he asked incredulously.

Fenris looked down at him. "Are you not up for it?"

"Well I certainly would be but I think my bits need a break! Maker's breath, if I'd known you'd be this receptive, I would have pushed for this a while ago!"

Fenris laughed and kissed him again, softer this time. "Stay here."

"As if I could go anywhere. I think my legs are cramping. Not that I mind, but walking might have to wait a few hours at least."

Fenris slid off him and pulled a washcloth from the basin in the corner of the room. There would be no way either of them could make it to the baths tonight. He dipped the cloth in the tepid water and rang it out, wiping off his chest and stomach.

"Mm," Dorian muttered, legs sliding against the sheets as he turned on his side to watch. "Naked Fenris. Do you think that we could make that a habit? You walking around Skyhold like that so I could see it all the time?"

"You would get jealous of those watching me," Fenris said, carefully cleaning off his cock before rinsing the cloth and returning to Dorian. "On your stomach."

Dorian grinned and did as he was told. "How I've longed to hear those words." He wriggled in anticipation.

Fenris capped the jar of oil and tossed it onto the dresser, then started to meticulously clean his spunk from Dorian's thighs and ass. "Perhaps next time." He wondered what it would feel like in that position. Would it be degrading to Dorian to take him that way? He doubted it. Nothing they did in bed was demeaning in the least.

"I suppose I would get jealous," Dorian sighed. "If you walked around naked all the time, I mean. Still. I think they would be even more jealous than I. After all, _I_ am allowed to touch you and they are not."

"All done," Fenris said, tossing the cloth in the basin, smirking at Dorian's words.

He helped Dorian shift the sheets around and rearrange the pillows before dousing the candles, and climbed into bed. Immediately Dorian wrapped around him, head on his chest, and Fenris threaded his fingers through his hair, kissing the top of his head.

"Other than completely marvelous…?" Dorian asked.

Fenris chuckled. "Yes. It was that. I… it is something I would like to do again. Soon."

Dorian yawned. "Good. Good. And… you know, if you'd prefer it this way, I don't mind. There's no rule that says we need to switch off or anything."

Fenris was quiet for a moment, thinking. If it was that good with Dorian this way, then it definitely wasn't going to be anything like how it had been with Danarius if they tried the other way. "…I'd like to try," he said. "I think."

Dorian kissed his chest, snuggling close. "All right. When you say so. I promise you I won't hurt you. Ever."

"I know," Fenris whispered.

They fell asleep together, sated and happy.


	7. Chapter 7

The air in the war room was tense. Fenris leaned against the wall with Dorian, watching Anders pace quietly as Josephine scribbled a few things down. Hawke looked… well, angrier than usual, and Celene's arcane advisor – Morrigan, Fenris learned her name – had a sort of self-satisfied smirk on her face. Leliana stood quietly in the shadows while Cullen cleared the table, rearranging troops. A few others from the Inquisitor's inner circle were in attendance as well, keeping quiet like Fenris and Dorian, waiting for someone to speak.

"It's not blood magic," Anders said finally, breaking the silence.

"They're _dangerous_ ," Hawke growled. "The mirror _killed_ someone, Anders."

Mirror? Fenris looked at Dorian who shrugged. Solas, who'd said nothing, shifted almost imperceptibly in his spot near the door.

"'Tis not the same eluvian that you encountered previously," Morrigan said. "That one, I believe, was corrupted and-"

"Oh do you think so?" Hawke snapped. "You didn't see what it did. What it led Merrill into doing."

"The magic of the eluvian isn't inherently dangerous," Anders said, and Fenris realized the source of the uneasy air. It was rare that Anders and Hawke disagreed on anything, at least for long. "It's all about how you use it-"

"You're starting to sound like Merrill," Hawke cut him off.

Anders' eyes narrowed just a little. "I am not talking about using blood magic or consorting with demons, Garrett."

"Oh he used the first name," Dorian muttered to Fenris. "He means business."

"The eluvian we have leads to a path beyond the Fade," Morrigan continued, trying to ignore the two men now glaring at one another. "If Corypheus is seeking one out-"

"Which we're not sure he is," Leliana said.

"Your scouts have reported his movements in the Arbor Wilds, have they not?" Morrigan challenged. "And that is where my research says we will find this eluvian. 'Tis not that far a leap in logic to surmise that the eluvian is his intended goal."

"Why would he want a mirror?" Hawke asked. "He's trying to get into the Fade, not… wherever it was you brought Anders. Without me," he added, glaring.

Fenris hadn't heard about _this_. But if Morrigan and Anders were discussing some kind of transportation magic without Hawke, and blood magic may or may not have been involved, his anger was justified.

"'Twould stand to reason that if the eluvian we have here leads to a realm beyond the Fade, that another leads directly _into_ the Fade. Of course, an immense amount of power would be required to shift the direction of the eluvian's magic."

"Well Corypheus has that," Anders muttered, sighing, leaning on the war table, looking at the map.

"What happens if Corypheus does enter the Fade?" Cullen asked.

"He will gain his heart's desire and become a god," Morrigan said lightly. "Or, and this is more likely," she added in a slightly sarcastic tone, "the lunatic will unleash forces that will tear the world apart."

"That won't happen," Anders said, shoulders rounded. He counted the distance from Skyhold to the Arbor Wilds using a metal compass. "I won't let it."

Morrigan laughed, ending in a cough as Hawke glared at her. "Such confidence, but the Arbor Wilds are not so kind to visitors. Old elven magic lingers in those woods."

Fenris found himself looking at Solas again, who appeared amused, a small smile touching his lips as he shifted his staff from one hand to the other.

Anders seemed to have the same idea, turning to Solas first, which only seemed to infuriate Morrigan, her berry red lips pursing, curling into a frown.

"I have the knowledge that will lead us through safely," Morrigan insisted.

"By all means, do regale us with your wisdom," Solas said, and the compliment was taken less as such and more an insult. Fenris could see it in Morrigan's stance.

"We'd be remiss not to take advantage of your knowledge, Lady Morrigan," Josephine said diplomatically, diffusing the argument before it heated up. "Please, lend us your expertise."

Dorian smirked, looking down as he leaned against Fenris a little. Apparently Solas wasn't the only one who found the proceedings rather amusing.

"'Tis why I came here," Morrigan said. "Although it is good to see its value recognized." She glared sidelong at Anders.

"We need to reach the eluvian before Corypheus," Cullen said, interrupting. "He has a head start, no matter how quickly our army marches, and if we extend ourselves-"

"They'll arrive too tired to be of any use," Anders said, arranging a few pieces on the map. "Who's in the area right now?"

"We can move our troops from Montsimmard. Gaspard has chevaliers he would lend to this," Cullen said, sliding a piece south.

"We should gather our allies first before we march," Josephine suggested.

"Can we wait for them?" Leliana asked, stepping forward, gesturing to the pieces scattered across the map. "We should send our spies ahead with the scouts."

"To attack without the support from the soldiers?" Cullen asked, incredulous. "You'd lose half of them!"

Anders slammed his hand down on the table, causing his advisors to jump. Hawke touched the small of his back and Anders shrugged him off. Someone cleared their throat and they all fell silent, waiting. Anders took a breath.

"Arguing seems to be what you three do best, but I won't have it. Not now. Not when Corypheus is so close, when we can end this here." He tapped the shaded green area marked 'Arbor Wilds' on the map. "So we work together. Josephine, send birds to our allies. Have them send their scouts to meet us in the Wilds. Leliana, your fastest agents will join them. Tell them not to engage directly, but to divert Corypheus's forces, get ahead of them to slow them down enough until Cullen's soldiers arrive." He straightened, looking at Cullen. "Tired troops will not win this battle. Trust that Leliana's people can subvert them long enough for the vanguard from Montsimmard and Verchiel to reach them. If Rylen can spare any troops from the west, have them march as well." He moved pieces on the map to illustrate his instructions. "Then, fully rested, your troops can join them to take up the battle in earnest. I want Fiona's mages with them, especially the healers. Understood?"

"Yes, Inquisitor," came the echoes of the three advisors, and Fenris had to admit that he was impressed with Anders and his ability to command.

Anders nodded to Morrigan. "You'll come with me and my forward guard."

"Very well," Morrigan agreed.

"Make it happen," Anders said, rapping his knuckles on the map. He turned on his heel and strode out, Hawke following quickly.

"The Inquisitor is quite the formidable force," Solas remarked, as they filed out. "He's going to do well in this fight."

Dorian fell into step with him and Fenris, walking through the great hall toward the tower. "I expect we'll be a part of that forward guard."

"Without a doubt," said Solas, who seemed to approve of the idea. "To traverse the Arbor Wilds, an area fraught with elven magic and history…"

"Morrigan seemed to think she knew quite a bit more about it than you," Dorian said, flopping elegantly on Solas's couch, arms stretched out on the back. He crossed his legs and gestured toward Fenris with his head.

Fenris settled next to him, smiling when Dorian's hand cupped the back of his neck, fingers playing gently with his hair.

"And she well may," Solas admitted. "She has devoted much of her life to studying the history of the elvhen and the eluvians, how they were used in the days of ancient Elvhenan."

"So they were sort of… doorways?" Dorian asked. "I admit that I've heard only briefly about them. I thought they were a Tevinter invention."

Solas pursed his lips, and Fenris shook his head. It wasn't the first time Dorian brought up the idea that something was Tevinter, only to have Solas correct him.

"The ancient Tevinters built their empire upon the rubble of the ancient elves-" He held up a hand as Dorian started to protest. "As many empires tend to do. Ferelden is built from the remnants of the Alamarri. Orlais's influence is seen throughout the Free Marches. Empires rise and fall and even the dwarves, locked away in their underground thaigs are not impervious to this. It is simply history."

"We haven't taken _that_ much from the elves. Have we?" Dorian asked, frowning.

"Venhedis," Solas said suddenly, causing Fenris to laugh.

"Rather rude," Dorian returned.

"You misunderstand. The word in elven is 'Fenedhis'. Much of the language you use, your ancient Tevene, comes from the elven tongue."

"I… well, I suppose that makes sense. Some of our words are dwarven too, but we work so closely with them…"

"You see, Dorian," Solas said, gesturing at the piles of books and writing on his desk, "it is all an amalgamation of culture and history. We should learn it and learn from it, but not cling to it. If you'll excuse me, I have to look into these Wilds and see if I can find any information that will help the Inquisitor."

Fenris stood first, pulling Dorian to his feet. "Thank you."

"Whatever for?" Solas asked, head tilted slightly.

"Your stories. And your patience," he added, eyes flicking to Dorian, and Solas smiled.

Dorian snorted. "Yes, yes. Let's make fun of the incompetent _shemlen_. Elves," he scoffed, rolling his eyes and left the room.

"It is my pleasure," Solas said graciously. "Until tomorrow."

Fenris nodded and headed out to prepare for the journey.


	8. Chapter 8

"Do you want me to hit it with a fireball?"

"Is that your answer for everything?"

"Yes, it is," Fenris interrupted, sighing.

They heard the army around them, crashing through the trees and the thick undergrowth of the jungle. The reports from the Arbor Wilds came in that it was lush and verdant, with a host of flora and fauna the scouts had never seen before. Bears and foxes they were used to, but even the insects here were different. Dorian dodged something that buzzed by his ear, flapping his arms comically as Solas chuckled. Now on the trail in front of them was a giant bird, reminiscent of a peacock, but with a large, long, thin beak that looked like it could easily take out their eyes with a simple peck. It also seemed disinclined to move, and none of the three wanted to approach it.

"You've fought darkspawn, a huge fear demon, giants, and red templar crystal behemoth things," Dorian said, nudging Fenris. "Go glow at it or something."

"Perhaps we ought to wait and see if it retreats," Solas suggested.

"Oh this is ridiculous," Fenris growled. Sword already in hand, he stalked forward, jumping back when the bird let out a loud, screeching, _SQUWAK!_ "…Move aside, you stupid thing." The runes on his sword activated, a swirl of electricity moving up the blade and he swung.

The bird fluttered back, chirruping indignantly, feathers ruffling, some falling to the ground in its anger. It unfurled enormous wings and finally flew away, heading into the trees.

"Let us hope it is not regrouping for an aerial attack," Solas mused.

Dorian kept his eyes up, hand shielding the sun's glare as they continued down the path. Ahead of them they saw more soldiers and scouts, and they stopped at the first clearing where a camp was set up. Solas meandered slowly away to examine the ruins, the crumbling stone arches. Fenris nodded toward a table where Anders and Hawke stood, the former speaking to one of Cullen's people. They approached, catching the tail end of the conversation.

"Take care, Captain," Anders said. "We'll await your signal."

The captain saluted. "Andraste guide you, Inquisitor." She nodded to Hawke and then left to fulfill her orders.

"I wonder," Morrigan said, and Fenris saw her on the other side of the table, which was covered in maps and notes, "is it Andraste your soldiers invoke during battle, or does a more immediate name come to their lips?"

"Well, Anders is the closest thing to a modern god," Dorian interjected before either Hawke or Anders could say anything. "Must be why Corypheus is so jealous." He winked at Anders, smirking.

Anders sighed and shook his head. "The strangest things give people faith. I'm not going to take that away from them by reminding them I'm only a man."

"Battles are fought and won by men," Fenris said. "Not gods. They fight in your name, for you, and you lead them well."

The slight pink tinge to Anders' cheeks was visible even in the somewhat oppressive heat of the jungle.

"I must digress," Morrigan cut in. "If your scouts report accurately, I believe these ruins of which they speak to be the Temple of Mythal."

Solas wandered back, appearing interested now in the conversation. Fenris understood; Mythal was one of the goddesses the Dalish worshipped. What he knew of her came from Solas and his tales, and Anders nodded knowingly.

"It must be ancient."

"Quite right," Morrigan agreed. "The elves have not built such temples for quite some time." She glanced at Solas, as if daring him to challenge her knowledge. When he said nothing, she continued. "Like most history, the temple was merely a legend. If Corypheus seeks it, then the eluvian he covets lies within."

An explosion somewhere to the north interrupted the conversation, all heads turning in that direction. Morrigan pursed her lips.

"Let us hope we reach this temple _before_ the entire forest is reduced to ash."

"Oh I don't know," Dorian said, as they picked up again, following Anders and Hawke. "I wouldn't mind seeing a few more buildings here."

"Do the woods discomfort you, Pavus?" Morrigan asked lightly.

Dorian snorted inelegantly. "I know we haven't known each other long, Morrigan, but that is definitely a redundant question. But no, it's mostly the people trying to take our heads that discomfort me."

"Though the bugs and the birds are added complications," Solas said softly, and Fenris held back a laugh.

They trekked up the recently cleared path, the smell of smoke in the air. Fenris wondered how bad the fighting had gotten in their absence. He saw the evidence of the overgrowth, the giant mushrooms on the side of the path, the trees that seemed to stretch endlessly to the sky. The entire land was something forgotten by time. Until Corypheus and the Inquisition. It was sad in a way; something so beautiful was preserved for so long until war came to its doorstep. Perhaps once they found the temple, Anders would be inclined to use some of their resources to maintain it. Like Tevinter, repair the crumbling bits but ensure the history was kept intact.

They passed through a very tall hollowed out log, the inside damp and covered in moss. Fenris's markings itched and buzzed within his skin, lighting on their own accord. Morrigan glanced over, intrigued, and Dorian quickly moved between them, touching his wrist in concern.

"There is a lot of magic in the air," Fenris said, stretching his shoulders. Thanks to Dagna's crystal treatment, the lyrium didn't hurt, but it still felt odd.

"Ancient magic," Solas agreed. "Something more powerful than Corypheus's red templars lingers here."

"That's not exactly reassuring," Dorian said.

Hawke grunted. "If it bleeds, we can kill it."

"True. I suppose it's best that you're leading us, though. You can take all the hard hits." Dorian reached up and patted Hawke's plate pauldron.

Hawke actually smiled. "That's what I'm here for."

They met Cullen and Cassandra at a crossroad, Anders taking reports and advice.

"Gaspard's chevaliers are up ahead, but the red templars are out in droves. A lot more than we've accounted for," Cullen said. "There's a damn good chance Samson's leading them."

Fenris did not miss the disgust that came with Samson's name. He'd heard some of the background story from Dagna, who was happy to talk to him about the red lyrium rune and other things when he collected his sword. Apparently Cullen and Samson had history, both templars together in Kirkwall, but Samson was foisted from the order. Corypheus, it seemed, offered him far better than what the Chantry ever could.

"We'll take out his armor, then we'll take him out," Hawke assured Cullen, clapping him on the arm.

Cullen nodded. "My men have been clearing a path, but scouts report some heavy resistance. Watch for archers on the walls."

"Cassandra," Anders said, "I want you taking care of the chokepoints with Bull and Blackwall. Hit them with everything you got, stop any more from getting to that temple. Send Sera and Varric ahead to cover our approach and Cole – where is Cole?"

"Here."

They turned as one, Morrigan looking confused with the apparent sudden appearance of Cole, who stood just behind them. For all they knew, he could have been there the whole time.

Anders smiled. "Cole, you watch our back, but I don't want you in the temple itself. Maker only knows what kind of magic's in there and how it'll affect you."

Cole nodded. "But what about you? You'll be safe? Do you promise?"

"I promise," Anders assured him.

A quirk of the lips and Cole disappeared. Morrigan frowned, but Anders offered no explanation, and they continued deeper into the jungle, toward the temple.


	9. Chapter 9

"That should be the temple just ahead," Anders whispered.

They were crouched just behind a steep incline, peering over the top. The temple entrance was some three or four hundred feet away, but directly in front of them, blocking the path, was a camp full of red templars and Venatori, the Tevinter flag fluttering in the warm breeze.

"Really wish they'd have picked a different heraldry," Dorian said through gritted teeth.

"Warriors in at first to draw their fire," Anders said. "Solas, shields for Hawke and Fenris, keep them up. Dorian, bring the firestorm directly over the camp, aim for the archers. I'll follow with ice to contain it. Don't worry about saving the supplies. …Try not to hit Hawke or Fenris, all right?"

Dorian sighed. "Burn a man once and you never hear the end of it. Yes, all right."

"Morrigan-"

"I believe I can handle my own tactics, Inquisitor, though I thank you for your input."

"Right. Well. Here we go."

Fenris followed Hawke, the new runes in his sword activating as they drew the fire from the archers. He cut down three arrows, a fourth clanging off his breastplate, and engaged a templar warrior that swung at him. The air shifted, growing thicker and a moment later fire rained from the sky. A whirling tempest of flame engulfed the archers and those who weren't quick enough to charge. Fenris broke out into a sweat, the heat overwhelming, the smoke filling his nostrils, and he heard the screams of the templars and the Venatori as they roasted alive. 

He swung his blade down, cutting through a templar's pauldron and breastplate. It stuck, and he placed a booted foot against the plate, yanking it out. The templar dropped to the ground, blood spilling over the metal. Fenris turned to engage another, to entice one of the three attacking Hawke away from him. From behind, Solas worked to keep the magical barriers in place, the shimmering shield up and around Fenris, blocking any blows that he could not.

The air shifted once again and Anders took over, a violent snowstorm in a self-contained area. He had more control than Dorian with the fire, dousing it quickly and burying the camp in four feet of snow and ice. Morrigan let loose with a spell from her fingertips, trapping one of the templars in some kind of hex, dropping him to his knees. A shadow shifted behind her, so quiet, almost silent and invisible, that Fenris at first thought it was Cole.

"Morrigan!"

Her eyes widened in surprised as he ran for her. She braced herself in anticipation of the collision, but Fenris phased through, knocking into the new attacker. Not Venatori or a templar. Tall and lanky, clad in sleek metal armor, with a hood pulled low over its eyes that stayed up as the being leapt to its feet. Long, wicked looking daggers dripping violet with some kind of poison were held at the ready. Fenris raised his sword, catching both with his blade that crackled with electricity. A flash of shadow and it was gone; he turned in time to block another blow. Whatever it was, whoever it was, it moved fast.

He spun again, blocking one dagger, and leapt away to avoid the slash of the other. Fenris stood still a moment, listening beyond the clang of metal on metal, the sounds of Hawke and the mages fighting. The being was fast, but he could be faster. Or at least use the element of sheer shock and surprise. He breathed. 

Waiting. 

Suddenly he heard it and ducked, dropping his sword, feeling the _woosh_ of the dagger above him. He turned on one knee and thrust his fist upward, phasing through the sleek metal armor into the being's ribs. He looked up to see golden eyes widening in realization a split second before Fenris crushed his heart. The body fell to the ground, Fenris's hand covered in blood and viscera, and he got slowly to his feet, looking around carefully in case there were more.

"'Tis… an elf?" Morrigan asked, kneeling, pulling back the hood.

Hawke's sword clanked to the ground and he fell to a knee, Anders running up quickly. The ground was littered with bodies of their foes, and while Fenris wanted to know more about the elf that attacked them, Hawke was the primary concern.

"Are you all right?" Fenris asked, as Anders pushed Hawke back to the dirt.

"Arrow got through," Hawke managed.

Fenris saw it now, an arrow in his side that should have been blocked by the barriers. He looked up at Solas, who was shaking his head.

"I was not fast enough. I am sorry."

Anders waved a hand. "It's fine. Barely a flesh wound."

"You wouldn't say that if it was your gut that had an arrow in it," Hawke managed.

"Fenris, can you get the arrow out without breaking the tip?" Anders asked.

Fenris knelt down as Solas and Dorian went to inspect the odd-looking elf. He phased his hand and carefully removed the arrow whole, Hawke gritting his teeth, breathing heavily through his nose. Anders healed the wound at once, and passed his hand over it again to relieve the pain.

"All right? You big baby," he said fondly, helping Hawke sit up.

Hawke grunted at him in reply, and Fenris pulled him to his feet.

"It seems the temple is not deserted after all," Solas said, voicing the answer to the question they were all wondering.

Fenris knelt down to inspect the armor. The craftsmanship was superb, even beyond what the dwarves were capable of; it fit the elf like a second skin.

"'Twould explain why so few who venture forth into the Arbor Wilds seldom return," Morrigan said.

Fenris looked at the daggers, too slim for his tastes, and was careful not to touch the purple sheen. Solas however touched his little finger to it, brought it to his nose and inhaled carefully. He frowned and touched his tongue to it, spitting in distaste.

"It appears to be a mixture of blood lotus and arbor blessing. One would normally think the herbs an anathema, however it seems a very potent poison."

Anders looked for a moment as if he was going to ask Solas to somehow retrieve the poison from the blades, but he shook his head. "The rest of the way to the temple should be clear. Let's hope these elves have taken out most of Samson's men."

"Who are they, anyway?" Dorian asked, with one last look back at the elf as they descended the hill toward the temple.

"Perhaps a clan of Dalish who pay respect to Mythal and her temple," Morrigan suggested.

"They didn't look Dalish," Dorian said.

"Oh? And you would have such experience with all Dalish elves that you know their exact appearance?"

"He's right," Solas said, and Fenris was grateful for the support. "Aside from their vallaslin, they look very different from the People as we know them today."

"Or any other elves," Fenris added.

"They were well trained," Dorian noted. "And fast. I barely saw that one move. We came in prepared to fight templars and Venatori and even rogue Grey Wardens. We didn't account for elven assassins that could move like lightning."

"We'll figure something out," Anders said. "The temple's just up here."

"What? Make it up as we go?" Dorian laughed.

Anders looked back at him. "Now you're getting it."

Fenris sighed at Anders' smile, hoping that at the very least, Solas had an idea regarding how they were to enter the temple without being slaughtered.


	10. Chapter 10

As they stepped through the archway that led to the temple, Anders signaled for them to slow, and they all heard the fighting ahead. Bodies of red templars and Grey Wardens littered the path, but only one or two of the odd-looking elves, Fenris noticed. Keeping low, they walked out onto a wide balcony and peered through the rungs in the railing. The temple proper was just ahead across a long bridge that at one point would have glittered like jewels in the sunlight, brilliant yellow bricks now old and faded and cracked. A small group of elves stood at the mouth of it, bows and daggers at the ready. One held a staff, and he stepped forward now. Fenris watched the red templars below, his palms sweating on the leather grip of his sword. Among them, easily visible, was Corypheus, who was twice the height of even the tallest man. Samson stood next to him, his black hair slicked back, red lyrium armor pulsing with power.

The elf with the staff shouted at Corypheus, indecipherable words echoing off the rocks. Samson's laughter followed. Corypheus raised a hand, a black ball of energy erupting from his palm, catching the elf in the chest. He flew back, smacked against one of the stone statues at the mouth of the bridge, and crumpled to the ground, dead. The other elves backed away slowly.

"These are but remnants," Corypheus stated, his voice clear, deep, and booming. "They will not keep us from the Well of Sorrows."

"Well of Sorrows?" Anders whispered, looking at Morrigan who frowned, shaking her head a little.

_Great,_ Fenris thought, turning his attention back to Corypheus. They were going in with yet even less information than they thought they originally had. It was bad enough that they had no idea what they were dealing with when it came to the elves. Now Corypheus was seeking something they had literally no knowledge of.

The elves were still backing away and Fenris felt the lyrium in his skin respond to another pull of strange magic. The two statues flanking the bridge began to glow brightly, blue and white pulses of light flickering over the stone. He watched Corypheus hesitate, and then walk forward. Brilliant, dazzling blue electricity shot from the tops of the statues, catching Corypheus in the crossfire. He heard someone in their group gasp as the magical energy built, turning a blinding white, and Corypheus shouted in pain. An explosion rocked the area, a wave of dust and debris washing over them, forcing them to turn away, arms raised to protect themselves.

Coughing, Anders looked at them. "Is everyone all right?"

No one seemed hurt, the dust settling as they got to their feet.

"Across the bridge!" Morrigan shouted.

The elves ran, and the templars gave chase. Their own path clear now, Anders headed down the stairs, the others following. The statues were gone, crumbled into the water, and what was left of Corypheus was a mere pile of bones, cloth, and melted flesh.

"Eugh," Anders said, pushing at it with the edge of his staff. "It wasn't like this the last time."

"No, it wasn't," Hawke agreed. "He was definitely more than just a puddle."

Fenris heard a faint clanking noise. He turned around to see the corpse of a Grey Warden start to lift itself off the ground, getting to its knees. He'd seen necromancy before, but there was something truly very _wrong_ about the way its body twitched, its hollowed out eyes staring blankly. He reached up, grabbed Dorian's robe, and tugged hard.

"Fenris, what are- Oh. Um. I think… perhaps we should run? Anders!"

Anders turned, eyes widening as the corpse reared back, spewing ugly black ichor from his mouth. It fell forward and one long, clawed hand ripped its way out of the Warden's arm.

"Across the bridge," Anders ordered, panicked. "RUN!"

They ran. Fenris looked back to see the hulking form of Corypheus emerge from the corpse. A cry like nails on slate from overhead, and Fenris remembered all too well the dragon that Corypheus kept as a pet, the shadow falling over them.

"HURRY!" Anders shouted.

They raced across the bridge, skidding to a stop just inside the temple. Fenris slammed his shoulder against one of the hulking double doors, shoving it shut with all his might, Solas grunting next to him with the effort. The doors closed, Dorian slumped against the one opposite, out of breath. Hawke yanked him up by the arm and pulled him away just in time as a silver-white shield of magical energy emanated from the center divide of the doors and covered them, sealing them closed. A loud _BANG_ rocked the doors with the impact of the dragon, and dust and dirt cascaded from the walls, but the magic held fast.

Dorian looked up at Hawke, a look of disbelief on his face.

"Ancient temple," Hawke muttered. "Bound to be lots of traps."

Dorian let out an incredulous, "Hah," of laughter. Fenris helped him up, keeping an arm around his waist.

"I'm all right, love," Dorian breathed. "Just… not exactly something you see every day and what in the bloody flames just happened?!"

Anders scrubbed his hands over his face before looking at Hawke. "At least that explains how he came back after we killed him."

"No it most certainly does not!" Dorian exclaimed.

"I believe I can answer-" Morrigan started.

"He's got the powers of an Old God," Anders interrupted. "An Archdemon. Maybe his dragon? But no, there would be a Blight." He frowned, and it was clear his thoughts were spilling out into his speech. "It can't be an Archdemon, there aren't any nightmares, and the Calling is just a false…" He snapped his fingers. "They're connected somehow. If I had to guess, probably through the red lyrium. I guess Bianca was good for something with her research-"

Hawke snorted derisively.

"No, see, lyrium is alive."

Dorian frowned. "Er. Come again?"

Fenris raised an eyebrow, looking down instinctively at his markings. Alive? How?

"That's what she found out. The Blight can only infect living creatures – bears, wolves, people. Red lyrium is just lyrium that's been tainted by the darkspawn. "

"'Just' he says," Dorian muttered, as Anders continued to talk over him.

"So he feeds his dragon this lyrium and that's why it looks like an Archdemon but isn't. It's just a dragon that's been Blighted by the taint. Anyway, the Archdemon, a _true_ Archdemon can be reborn into any tainted creature, usually a darkspawn. That's why the old Blights lasted so long. No one knew how to stop them. They were effectively immortal. And that's why Grey Wardens are needed to stop the Blights. One of us takes the killing blow on the Archdemon and the soul of the Old God is drawn to the taint inside our own soul and both are destroyed."

They fell silent as Anders concluded his ramblings, turning this over in their minds.

"But… would that mean that a Grey Warden would have to…" Dorian started slowly.

The half-smile on Anders' face faded, and he looked down, frowning now. "I think it means that the only way to kill him is the same way to kill an Archdemon."

"No," Hawke said, grabbing his shoulder, shoving him back a little. Anders stumbled, and Hawke caught his wrists. "No. It's not."

"Hawke, if I have to-"

"Shut up and listen."

Perhaps it was the bluntness, or the tone, but Anders did.

"Corypheus is not an Old God. He is _just_ a darkspawn. An ancient magister who walked the Fade, possibly pissed off the Maker, and now he's insane. He doesn't have the soul of an Old God."

"That's correct," Solas said, catching on now. "He must have tied his existence into the dragon somehow. Likely through the lyrium as you've stated. It was close enough to come when it was called, therefore it stands to reason that it is connected to his immortality."

"You see?" Hawke said, taking Anders by the shoulders, looking at him.

And Fenris saw something he didn't think he'd ever seen in Hawke's face: fear. Warm fingers found his and he looked down. Dorian was reaching for him, for comfort, and he took his hand, squeezing reassuringly. He understood exactly how Hawke felt.

Anders swallowed and nodded. "Yes. That… that makes sense."

"I won't lose you," Hawke said, almost inaudible, and he kissed Anders firmly.

An explosion from ahead broke them apart, and Anders looked behind him, sighing. "Let's go."

Fenris squeezed Dorian's hand one last time before letting go, and they hurried further into the temple.


	11. Chapter 11

"This place is amazing," Anders breathed, looking around.

Fenris saw at once what he meant. The high stone walls, though crumbling and crawling with ivy, evoked a visceral reaction in him. They were humbling yet empowering at the same time, ambient magic thicker here than in the forest. More of the same yellow brick marked a trail to the center of the yard, where two great stone pillars stood upon a dais. Beyond that, a grand staircase led to an upper level, flanked by two gleaming statues that depicted a golden goddess. Fenris thought it could only be Mythal. A cool breeze blew through the yard, and the faint sounds of a waterfall could be heard from further inside the temple.

"That explosion had to come from the templars. What do you think they're doing?" Hawke asked, nonplussed by the grandiosity.

Solas, on the other hand, had wandered away again to examine carvings on the wall, looking for all the world like this was a day trip to the park for him.

"Likely destroying this place," Anders sighed.

Morrigan stepped up the three stairs of the dais, frowning at the pillars. When she took another step, the stone panel beneath her feet lit up, and she looked down at it. Anders followed, marveling at the response when he put his weight down on the panel next to hers.

"'Twould appear the temple's magicks are still strong," Morrigan said.

"And these?" Anders asked, approaching the pillars, leaning in. "Old elven writing?"

Morrigan's frown deepened and she raised a hand, fingers following the lines while her lips moved to sound out the words.

"Solas!" Dorian called. "Your expertise is required, I think."

"I can translate," Morrigan insisted.

But Solas jogged over, eyes sparkling in delight as he deciphered the writing. "'Atish'all vir-'"

"Abelasan," Morrigan finished. "I see it."

"Yes," Solas said. "It means 'Enter the path of the Well of Sorrows.'"

"There is something about knowledge," Morrigan continued, almost to herself as she tried to read it. "Respectful or pure, shiven…"

Solas shook his head, an amused smile touching his lips, but he didn't offer an explanation. Dorian quirked an eyebrow.

"But what _is_ the Well of Sorrows?" Hawke asked. "I thought we were looking for a mirror."

"Yes, I was wrong," Morrigan snapped. "Are you happy?"

"Can't happen often," Dorian mused lightly.

Morrigan ignored him. "Whatever the Well of Sorrows is, Corypheus seeks it and therefore you must keep it from him."

Anders nodded. "I agree. If he's looking for it, it must be a source of power. Or a weapon."

Morrigan looked down again at her feet, at the glowing stone beneath her. She stepped back, pulling Anders off as well. The stones went dark. "Supplicants to Mythal would have first paid obeisance here. Following their path may aid entry."

"Sounds like the templars didn't bother," Hawke said impatiently.

"They probably didn't. But do you really think they're taking the smartest path by annoying an old, elven goddess?" Dorian asked.

Hawke grunted. "Point."

"Trace the steps," Solas said easily, ascending the stairs. He pointed with the tip of his staff. "I suggest letting the Inquisitor have the honor."

Anders nodded and stepped forward. Fenris watched as he followed the stone panels around the pillars, leaving a bluish light in his wake. He took the last step to complete the circuit, and the entire floor pulsed with energy. In the distance they heard a faint rumbling noise, and a rush of wind filtered down, rustling their hair and clothing. Anders smiled, looking proud and pleased as he hopped down the steps.

"Easy enough," he said.

"Now that you've said that," Dorian said cheerfully, "the next task is likely to survive being swallowed whole by a dragon."

Solas chuckled. "I very much doubt that." He paused, thoughtful. "Though one does profess a singular curiosity as to the range of the Inquisitor's luck."

Anders paled. "Yes, well. Let's leave that one to the imagination."

They ascended the steps to the upper level, passing the statues of Mythal, and followed a corridor into a side passage. An enormous hole in the wall was the evidence of the templars passing that way. Peering down they saw the bodies of two templars lying at the bottom of the drop.

"More temple guardians?" Anders guessed. "This isn't the right way we should be going. We should try to find the door the magic unlocked. Maybe on the other side?"

Fenris frowned, spotting a statue of a large wolf. He nudged Dorian and headed over, careful where he stepped in case the temple had any traps laid out for them.

"Fen'Harel," Fenris said, recognizing it once he got closer. He'd seen a few of the same statues across the Dales.

"Merrill told me a story about Fen'Harel," Hawke said, coming over. "Take the Dread Wolf by the ear, she would say."

"I'm fairly certain he wouldn't care for that," Solas said behind him.

Hawke shrugged. "Even if somebody did it, he would find a way to escape. He's wily that way."

"Indeed."

Fenris knelt and peered at the plaque, but the words were carved in the same ancient language as the ones on the pillar.

"Why would _this_ be here?" Morrigan asked, arms folded, looking up at the statue.

"Why not?" Hawke asked. "This is an ancient elven temple. Fen'Harel's an elven god."

Morrigan looked at him as if he'd grown another head. "In elven tales, he tricks the gods into sealing themselves away in the Beyond for all time. Setting Fen'Harel in Mythal's greatest sanctum is as blasphemous as painting Andraste naked in the Chantry."

Hawke shrugged. "There's all sorts of shit in the Chant. I wouldn't be surprised if that was in there somewhere. 'And lo, the Maker's bride did lift her top and revealed to us the finest pair of tits mine eyes hath ever looked upon.'"

Fenris snorted. Dorian turned away, trying to hold in his laughter, and Solas shook his head, smiling faintly.

Anders nudged him. "I bet that would've shocked Sebastian something awful."

Hawke's smile slipped, but returned just as quickly. "Merrill said the Dalish put statues of Fen'Harel outside their camps. Supposed to frighten harmful spirits... Shame it didn't work," he finished quietly.

"Mm. Perhaps," Morrigan said, stepping closer, inspecting the wolf's jaw. "I thought the ancient elves above quaint superstition."

Solas shook his head, sighing as he straightened. "For all your 'knowledge,' Lady Morrigan, you cannot resist giving legend the weight of history. The wise do not mistake one for the other. Sometimes stories," he said, gesturing at the statue, "are just stories."

Fenris stood, wondering if Solas would be inclined to tell more of those stories, specifically about Fen'Harel. He felt drawn to the wolf, sharing part of his name with him. Not that he would compare himself to a god, trickster or not. He opened his mouth to ask Solas more about it, but Morrigan spoke first.

"Pray tell, what does our elven 'expert' sense lurking behind this?"

Fenris exchanged a look with Dorian, who shook his head. Best not to get involved with this argument.

"None we can discern by staring at it," Solas said simply.

"I agree," Anders said. "We should keep moving."

They started back the way they came to check the other side of the upper floor. Fenris dropped back to speak quietly with Solas.

"You don't talk much about Fen'Harel."

Solas was silent a moment. "There are many stories of the Dread Wolf."

"I should like to hear them."

That same faint smile. "Perhaps once we are safe." He looked at Fenris with such intensity that Fenris had to drop his gaze. "You have taken quite the journey. It shows in you, the way you hold yourself, the cadence of your step, your speech."

Fenris felt the heat rising in his cheeks. He knew Solas was commenting as a friend, but the compliment was high praise. "It hasn't been easy."

"No path worth following is. Nor story worth being told. I am happy for you."

"…Thank you."

Solas nodded. "Speaking of paths, I believe we've arrived at ours."

A set of large, ornate doors stood before them, an intricate pattern inlaid in the stone, glowing faintly blue.

"Well," Anders said, sighing, "here we go."

And he pushed them open.


	12. Chapter 12

If Fenris never saw a templar again, red lyrium infused or otherwise, it would be too soon. Samson dove into another hole with a contingent of his soldiers, leaving behind at least a dozen others. Stronger, their armor thicker, red lyrium fueling their power, they fought without tiring. Many spells simply bounced off their skin, and even Fenris had trouble piercing their almost rock-like plate metal with either fist or sword. Panting, exhausted from the effort of holding the line and keeping the templars away from the mages, Fenris fell to his knees once the last of their foes was dispatched. A long gash up his arm burned as he bled, and Anders came to heal him.

"We might not be able to take much more of this," Hawke said, bleeding from a cut on his cheek.

Dorian handed him a handkerchief, which Hawke took, mopped the blood from his face, and handed back. Dorian held it delicately between his fingertips before tossing it into the large fountain in the center of the room.

"Samson can't have too many more soldiers with him," Anders said, catching his breath. "Let's go. We might be able to catch him."

Morrigan cut him off at the top of the staircase, holding her hand out. "Wait."

"What now?" Hawke growled. "While we screw around here, Samson's got his men searching for the Well. He's going to find it before we do."

"Perhaps not," she said, gesturing to a large set of doors to their right. They looked identical to the ones they passed through before. "While they blunder through, this way leads to our true destination. We should walk the petitioner's path, as before."

"I agree," Solas said.

Surprised as he was to hear Solas agree with Morrigan on something, Fenris understood the importance of paying respects in a religious temple. Though still unsure of what he believed, whether the Maker truly looked out for all His children, if Andraste was His bride or merely a crusader who saw and crushed injustices, the fact remained that the temple was full of very active, very old magic. Not to mention the guardians, the odd-looking elves. While the templars rushed through, drawing the ire of ancient traps, setting off runes and wards, they could take what would presumably be the safer path, and possibly the quicker one.

"As long as the ritual doesn't require blood or a sacrifice," he found himself saying, "we should continue that way."

"Well said," Dorian agreed.

"It's your call," Hawke said, looking at Anders. "Do you think it would be faster?"

"It's better than rushing through and having to fight whatever defenses the temple might have," Anders said. "Fighting the elves, we may end up wounded badly. Or killed. We'll need our strength to battle Samson… and possibly Corypheus if he's found a way in. Let's go."

They pushed through the second set of doors, and there was a collective relief amongst the group when they realized that there wasn't, in fact, a blood sacrifice requirement. Solas carefully started to direct Anders through the path, while Fenris inspected the mosaics.

"Beautiful, aren't they?" Dorian asked, looking up. "I admit that I don't know much about the lore or the culture."

"Mm."

"Do you feel… I don't know. A connection?"

Fenris shook his head. "I don't know. Perhaps. It's not truly my culture." He was fascinated by the stories, and the more time he spent surrounded by it, he did feel a certain kinship, but he wasn't Dalish. He was different now, a bit like Solas in a way with no clan, no alienage. But he had Dorian and Alexius and Felix, and that was good enough for him.

"I suppose that was a stupid question." Dorian traced part of the mosaic, watching the shining gold and green glass shimmer. "All this history and it's tucked away in this ancient forest. How many other corners of Thedas do you think hold such wonders?"

"Perhaps we can explore them," Fenris suggested.

"I wonder if being Archon comes with decent vacation packages."

Fenris chuckled, but stopped abruptly. "It will be a difficult path."

"Oh? I thought it was all about eating chocolates and living in decadency." He gasped mockingly. "You mean I was lied to! Well, I'm going to write Radonis right away and… Oh dear. You're frowning."

"I am being serious. I have faith that you will handle yourself well in the position, except…"

"Except?" Dorian raised an eyebrow. He glanced over to where the others were, some twenty feet away puzzling out the path and looked back. "Fenris?"

"Your subjects will not take kindly to the idea that you've taken an elven lover."

"Well the details of my bedroom life are not exactly their business."

Fenris sighed. "They will make it their business. And you will be subjected to twice the amount of scrutiny of any former Archon because of it."

"It's a good thing I have such a handsome face," Dorian mused. "It will look wonderful in all the papers. I'll have to find a proper artist though. Someone who can really capture this stunning profile."

Fenris stared at him, feeling a sort of cold fury whirl in his chest. Under that, a dull sort of hurt. "Stop."

Dorian crossed his arms and leaned against the mosaic wall. "Fine."

"Will you outlaw slavery?"

He looked at Dorian, an intense quiet between them for a long moment before Dorian looked away, kicking the toe of his boot against the ground.

"I promise you," Dorian said, looking up at him finally, "if Radonis chooses me for his heir I will work towards ending the slave trade. It won't be an overnight process. Tevinter was built on slavery. I'm not sure the economy even knows how to work without them. I don't mean the lazy magisters, the ones who'd rather not pay their slaves do their washing. I mean…" He sighed. "The farms, the vineyards. The… everything, really."

Fenris was quiet a moment, thinking about it. Ferelden existed without slaves, and while they suffered due to the Blight, they were managing fine. He reached out and took Dorian's hand, tugging on it until he uncrossed his arms, and embraced him.

"I will stand with you through this."

"Was that ever in doubt?" Dorian asked, and he sounded sincerely worried. "You're not thinking about doing something stupidly noble and utterly foolish, like leaving me for the good of my own sake, are you?"

It was a thought that crossed his mind quite regularly. But he didn't think admitting it to Dorian right now was a good idea. Instead, he kissed him softly. "I won't."

The worry faded from Dorian's stance, and he relaxed. A pulse of magical energy filled the room, Fenris's brandings flashed in response. The sound of a door unlocking reached their ears.

"We're moving on," Hawke called. "Quit making out and lend a hand, for Andraste's sake, I swear…"

"Don't be jealous!" Dorian called back. He winked at Fenris and followed the others further into the temple.

Fenris, not sure if he felt better, pushed the thoughts of the future away for now in order to focus on the next task.


	13. Chapter 13

The doors opened into a chamber that was in much better condition than the rest of the temple: the shining golden floor was free from cracks, all the bricks intact, the mosaic pattern depicting some ancient design, perhaps a dedication to Mythal or another elven god. Great bronze bowls on pedestals boasted fires that burned and crackled, and Fenris knew the elves must be here. But where? They looked around, taking in the intact stone walls which were free of the ever prevalent ivy that crawled over the courtyard. He took note of several statues depicting elven archers. Though eyeless, he couldn't shake the eerie feeling that they were being watched. A shiver ran down his spine and he straightened at once.

"Anders."

"I feel it," he whispered.

Collectively they looked up. High above them a lone elf stalked the balcony, arms crossed, looking down at them from beneath his hood. He wore the same sleek armor as the others, the color slightly different. Perhaps it was a way to depict his status as a leader? Fenris wished he'd not sheathed his sword, and longed to go for it now, but the elf did not appear armed. Still, Fenris knew that meant nothing.

"Venavis."

Fenris looked to Solas for a translation, but the elf was speaking again, and in the trade tongue. His voice was smooth and lyrical, like a song.

"You are unlike the other invaders. You stumble down our paths alongside elvhen, or at least those having our features." His eyes swept from Solas to Fenris, and he frowned.

Fenris's brow furrowed, wondering what he'd done to cause insult.

The elf continued. "You bear the mark of magic which is familiar." He looked at Anders now, lifting his hand slightly.

The Anchor started to glow faintly green, and Anders shook his hand, flexing his fingers.

"And there is something else. A spirit?"

"I carry the spirit of Justice inside me," Anders answered easily.

The elf's lips quirked, almost a smile. "Then we serve similar gods."

Hawke snorted. "Don't let Justice hear that. Being elevated to godhood will do nothing to deflate his ego."

"How has this come to pass?" the elf demanded. "What is your connection to those who first disturbed our slumber?"

"Well we're not exactly friends," Anders said, sighing. "They are our enemies. We're fighting them, trying to keep them from taking over the world."

The elf considered this a moment. Fenris felt a prickle at the back of his neck and turned around slowly, a thrill of fear crawling over his skin. At least a dozen of the elves stood in a row, arrows trained on their group. He hadn't even heard them move into place. How was that possible? Were they also spirits? Demons? Something, perhaps, akin to Cole? Or were they simply just very, very good at stealth and murder? Whatever the answer, it unsettled him, and he turned back to watch the unfolding conversation.

The elf nodded, seeming to come to a decision. "I am called Abelas. We are Sentinels, tasked with standing against those who trespass on sacred ground."

"That doesn't sound good for us," Dorian muttered.

"We wake only to fight, to preserve this place," Abelas continued, gesturing to the hall around them. "Our numbers diminish with each invasion."

Fenris felt a slight pang of guilt. It had been he, after all, who sunk his fist into the elf's heart outside the temple. He knew the choice of letting him live meant death for all of them - not a choice at all. Still, there was such sorrow, such sadness as Abelas spoke, that he couldn't help but feel that empathy for him.

"I know what you seek."

"We only want to stop Corypheus and Samson," Anders said. "Whatever the Well of Sorrows is, the only goal is making sure they don't get it."

Morrigan shook her head. "Inquisitor-"

"No," Anders said, looking at her, eyes narrowed. "You said you wanted to preserve the magic here. Not take it. It's not even our place to protect the Well. The temple _has_ guardians. We keep Samson from getting it. That's it."

Morrigan's eyes narrowed. Clearly she wasn't happy with this news. Did Morrigan want to take whatever power the Well had for herself? She wasn't their enemy, but nor did she feel like an ally. Anders seemed to realize this as well.

"The vir'abelasan is not for you," Abelas said, looking at Morrigan before casting his gaze over the rest of them. "It is not for any of you."

Anders spread his hands in a gesture of peace. "We just want to stop Corypheus from taking it. That's all. Are you… you're actual ancient elves? Not Dalish? Immortal?"

Fenris tried to wrap his head around the implications. Abelas said they slept and awoke each time the temple came under attack. Could it be true? He looked at Solas, whose eyes were fixed on Abelas, scrutinizing. Fenris held his breath, waiting.

"You've been alive since before the Tevinter Imperium destroyed Arlathan?" Anders asked, taking an unconscious step forward. "Is that-"

Abelas scowled and cut him off. "The _shemlen_ did not destroy Arlathan."

"What?" This from Dorian, who looked quickly from Anders to Abelas.

The anger from Abelas's face faded into pain, into sadness. "We elvhen warred upon ourselves. By the time the doors to this sanctuary closed, our time was over."

"Wait," Dorian said, stepping up. "That's not right. What are you saying?"

"History-" Fenris started, then closed his mouth as Abelas shook his head.

"You would not know the truth," Abelas said. "Shemlen history is as short as the pool of your years."

"I don't understand," Dorian pressed. "What did the Imperium do? There wasn't a war?"

Abelas scoffed. "The 'war' of carrion feasting upon a corpse, yes. The shemlen took what we left behind."

"And called it their own," Fenris whispered, frowning. He looked at Dorian, who stood, stunned with this news.

"Each time we awake, we find the world more foreign than before."

Fenris heard the fatigue in his tone, and tried to imagine what it would be like for him. To live for thousands of years, to wake only to fight and then rest again, every time losing more of your kin. He couldn't. The idea overwhelmed him, even more than his travels in the Fade.

"We endure. The vir'abelasan must be preserved."

"We only want that," Anders said.

"What _is_ it, exactly?" Hawke asked. "A well, but what does it contain?"

Abelas shook his head. "It is a path. One that is walked only by those who toiled in Mythal's favor. More than that, you need not know."

"Perhaps their priests…" Morrigan mused.

"Please," Anders said, taking another step. "We only want to help."

Fenris glanced back at the elves with their arrows. They hadn't moved the entire time, their bows perfectly poised, their arms showing no signs of fatigue.

"I believe you," Abelas said. "Trespassers you are, but you have followed rites of petition. You have shown respect to Mythal. The others have not. If they are your enemies, we will aid in destroying them. And when this is done, you shall be permitted to depart unharmed. And never return."

Fenris knew it wasn't his decision to make, but part of him longed to argue, to beg that they be allowed to study the history that was contained here. He looked again to Solas, whose face was impassive and difficult to read. His eyes, however, betrayed the sadness he felt.

"Consider carefully, Inquisitor," Morrigan said, turning to him. "You may need the Well's power for yourself."

"What?" Dorian asked, stepping up between them. "You would force an altercation that would end in death in order to scoop up this power for yourself?"

"I do not expect you to understand, being of Tevinter," Morrigan said, somewhat acidly.

"It is _because_ I'm from Tevinter that I understand! Better than you!" He looked to Anders. "Don't listen to her, please. They are the last of their kind."

"Easy, Dorian," Anders said, reaching up to grip his arm. "I've said it before. We're not here for the Well or its powers. We're here to stop Corypheus from getting it, and with the Sentinels' help, we can do that." He looked at Abelas. "We accept your offer."

Abelas inclined his head and gestured toward their left, where an elf with a long staff stood, waiting. "You will be guided to those you seek. As for the vir'abelasan… it shall not be despoiled. Even if I must destroy it myself," he said, turning away and disappearing through the door behind him.

"NO!" Morrigan shouted.

In a burst of magic that made Fenris's lyrium brands flare, Morrigan transformed into a bird and flew after Abelas. A jolt of pain shot through his nerves, bringing him to his knees, and Anders' shout for Morrigan was matched only by Dorian's concerned cry.

Dorian dropped down next to him. "Fenris?!"

Fenris winced, holding up a hand to stop Dorian from touching him. "Fine. Just… need a moment."

He heard Anders and Hawke talking but couldn't concentrate on what they were saying, trying to focus, to bring the lyrium brands back under control. Anders knelt in front of him as they dimmed.

"Are you all right? Do you need a potion?"

Fenris shook his head and managed to stand with Dorian's help. "No. That… was unexpected. Her magic…" He shuddered. He was used to Anders' healing magic, Solas's tightly controlled spellcrafting, and Dorain's unique inferno abilities. Morrigan was trained differently, her casting wild, throwing ambient energy every which way. "It will fade. Truly, I am fine."

Anders dug through his pouch.

"I'm _fine_ ," Fenris insisted.

Anders passed a vial of elfroot potion to Dorian. "If he needs it."

"I'll force it down his throat if that's the case."

Fenris growled. "I am not a-"

"Shush and let me fuss over you," Dorian said, reaching up to smooth his hair as they followed the Sentinel guide.

Fenris huffed, annoyed, but allowed the touch. Secretly, he was quite pleased with the affection, even if he was frustrated with the situation. Hoping that Abelas could handle Morrigan should a confrontation happen, he walked quietly with the others toward their goal.


	14. Chapter 14

"Will you invite Morrigan to stay at Skyhold after this is over?" Fenris asked Anders.

They walked the temple, following their silent guide who was opening secret doorways and waving them through. The sounds of fighting drifted in from rooms they could not see, and Fenris wondered how many of the Sentinels would die before the day was out. Yes, it was their duty, but part of him wished to go help, to prevent their destruction. But they needed to keep their strength. There was no telling how many templar soldiers they would face, and Samson. And possibly Corypheus. Fenris's palms were slightly sweaty, a touch of anxiety in his stomach.

"I will," Anders said. "If I threw out every person who disagreed with me, Skyhold would be empty. I'd even have to toss Hawke out."

Hawke grunted in response.

"She's dangerous," Fenris suggested.

"So are you," Anders returned easily, nodding to his sword. "So is Dorian. Iron Bull. The others. I can't stop Morrigan from seeking the Well for herself. I'm not her mother."

Hawke chuckled. "If you were, you could turn into a dragon and put this whole thing to an end."

"Sorry?" Dorian asked. "Morrigan's mother is a dragon? Well, that explains quite a lot, now doesn't it?"

"It's a long story," Hawke sighed. "Suffice to say that we knew Morrigan was dangerous when we met her, because her mother saved me from the Blight."

"Small world," Dorian mused.

"But you lead the Inquisition," Fenris pressed. "You said – and we all agreed – that we should stop Corypheus from getting the Well. Nothing more. She's going to try to take it for herself."

"And as long as she doesn't turn that power against the Inquisition or its allies-"

"How many people do you know who have power do nothing with it? Or use it only for benevolent purposes?" Fenris was getting angry now. Did Anders really not see the fallout from Morrigan getting whatever power the Well might offer? There was a reason the Sentinels guarded it.

Solas spoke up finally, breaking his observant silence. "Fenris speaks with wisdom borne from experience. Power is a delicate tool, Inquisitor. Not many are as wise as you are when wielding it. Look to the Chantry and its mistakes. Do you believe Morrigan, once gaining whatever gifts the Well has to offer, will simply fade into obscurity? Or would she use it for more nefarious purposes? Or perhaps even as a means to achieve her own end. I have seen you grow from a fugitive, a wanted apostate with the drive to right wrongs, to one of the most powerful men in all of Thedas. You have made difficult decisions that no king, no emperor, has ever made. You wield your authority with a gentle and firm hand, but fairly, without anger or bias. You could have every single templar killed, every mage elevated to godhood-"

"I never wanted-"

Solas held up a hand. "That is exactly my point. Remember what I said to you, Inquisitor, when we first had a conversation about this? I was curious about you. And I have my answer. But the failing of every good man is that he wishes to believe that others, given power and similar choices, would do great things such as he has. That is not always the truth. You of all people should know the world is not sewn in such black and white terms. And you are far from naïve. So think carefully."

"…I don't believe Morrigan would use the Well as a means to her own end. I think she wants to preserve what's been lost."

"And you think Abelas and his Sentinels cannot?"

Anders sighed. "No, it's not that."

"Would you prevent her taking the power, at the cost of her life?"

"No! I wouldn't… I don't want her dead!"

"That was not the question I asked."

Fenris watched Anders frown, saw the sparks that flew from the end of his staff as he clacked it down on the golden bricks. He looked to Dorian, who seemed lost in thought, and Hawke whose jaw was set, lips in a thin line.

"I will not let her harm the Sentinels. And I will not let her take the Well's power if I can prevent it from happening. But I will not kill her to stop her."

"Then," Solas said, "it shall be interesting to see how this plays out. I believe we are at our destination."

The guide stopped, gesturing them through the last doors. Anders turned to address them.

"With the fighting… it's possible Samson is ahead. Cullen's talked about him and…" He took a breath. "Just be careful."

He pushed open the doors. The chamber beyond was massive, a large domed ceiling opened up to the sky, streaming sunlight down to a glittering pool that must have been the Well of Sorrows. They stood atop a huge staircase overgrown with weeds and a myriad of flowers. Fenris took note of the copious amounts of elfroot that wound their way around the stone railing, leaves three times the size of those he'd seen in other parts of the world. They descended the stairs, hearing shouts from the templars, from Samson, and the strange dialect of the Sentinels as they fought. Anders broke into a jog once his feet hit the grass. Fenris took a moment to admire the beauty of the chamber with its lush green plants growing wild, ivy twisting up tall statues of elven gods, and a river that bisected the ground.

The water was red, discolored by the blood of the Sentinels. A templar, twisted and wrong, his skin rock-like with protruding lyrium crystals stomped viciously on the head of an elf before kicking him into the river. The water carried the body past them, flowing out of the chamber, and Fenris felt his anger rising. He took his sword in hand, the runes crackling with energy. Samson removed his own blade from an elf's chest, and spat on the ground as it fell dead. He laughed and turned around, grinning, eyes wide and bloodshot, armor thrumming with power from the red lyrium.

"I should've killed you when I had the chance," he chuckled, shaking his head. "Look at you. Years later and you're still running around, doing a fool's errand. See you've graduated from saving little magelings running away from the Circle."

"Samson," Anders greeted carefully.

"Sure, you remember my name now," Samson growled. "And the world will remember it when I bury my blade in your heart!"

"You're still just as pathetic as you were when we met you," Hawke noted. "Finally got your 'dwarf dust'."

"Better," Samson said acidly. "Found someone who appreciates the sacrifices I make."

Hawke scoffed. "Oh come on. We all know you're in this for the lyrium and the power."

"And why not?" Samson said, gesturing to the handful of templars around him. "Why shouldn't I be? You know what the world is? A bunch of people struggling to stay on top of one another, trying not to get crushed underfoot of organizations like the fucking Chantry. And the Chantry? The ones on top? Your little 'Inquisition'? All saying that they're doing the right thing. Following some absent god. What good has it gotten _you_ , Inquisitor? You join my master, and he would make you a king."

Anders shook his head sadly. "The Chantry failed you, Samson. Like it's failed a lot of templars. Turn from this and join the Inquisition. We can get you help, like Cullen."

Samson laughed. "Fucking sympathy from a mage. That's rich. You didn't want to help me back then. I helped myself. Pulled myself up. Didn't need the Chantry to do it. Don't need your Inquisition now. All right," he said, turning his blade in his hand. "This is how it ends, then."

Anders took a rune from his pocket. Fenris recognized it as the one Dagna had been working on. "I suppose it," he said, somewhat sadly.

A crack as loud as thunder echoed throughout the chamber, a bright blast of light, and Samson shouted in pain. Fenris heard him hollering, lamenting the loss of power in his armor, and the order to attack. The templars were strong, stronger than darkspawn or demons or even the Venatori. Though they were few in number, they fought ferociously, Samson laughing as he danced away from the fight, saving his strength. Fenris was aware vaguely of the mages behind himself and Hawke, felt the heat from Dorian's flames, saw the tendrils dancing along the ground. He skillfully avoided the rings of fire that cropped up around them. Solas continued to knock the templars off their feet to allow them to gain the upper hand, while Anders concentrated on keeping a barrier over both of them, his haste spell increasing their speed and agility. Wounds healed quickly, a slash of a sword doing no more damage than a thorn from a rosebush.

Samson leapt in from out of nowhere, Fenris concentrating on putting his sword through a templar's throat. He felt the bulk of the armor slam into him, knocking him down, and he phased to avoid the cold steel of Samson's sword in his gut. Rolling out from underfoot, he came up behind him, and Hawke flanked him. Despite the red lyrium rune neutralizing Samson's armor, it was still stronger than any metal that Fenris had ever encountered. His silverite blade bounced off, barely nicking it. The spells came less frequently now, the mages circling, trying to gain line of sight to avoid hitting either warrior. They could easily disengage to give them a free shot, but their magic might have been equally useless against the red lyrium armor.

The pommel of Samson's blade came at him too fast, he ducked too late. The blow took him off his feet and he staggered back, falling into the cool water of the river behind him. As he went under, he lost his sword. Splashing, he tried to pull himself up as the coppery metallic taste of blood filled his mouth. Pushing wet hair from his eyes, he looked up in time to see Samson, sword raised, about to take the final killing blow. He raised a gauntleted arm, heard the _woosh_ of an arrow, and the blow never fell.

"Halam sahlin," Abelas growled, striding forward, splashing through the water to Samson, who fell to his knees, clutching the arrow that pierced his armor.

Samson laughed, a breathy sound. "You stupid knife-ear bastard. You don't get it. You're finished."

Abelas tossed down his bow, pulling out two shining curved daggers, their ivory hilts inlaid with gold. He raised them to strike. Samson thrust his palm forward and a crackle of red energy caught Abelas in the middle, throwing him twenty feet into the rock face surrounding the Well. Hawke lunged when Samson tried to get to his feet, and he blocked the sword slash with his bracer. He stood, staggering with the pain of the arrow in his chest, and swung at Hawke. Hawke blocked the punch easily and struck again, catching Samson in the temple with his gauntlet. Samson fell to his knees once more, and Hawke kicked him hard in the face. Samson grunted, blood streaming from his mouth and nose as he fell over.

With Samson subdued, Dorian crossed to the river to help Fenris sit up. Fenris felt sick and dizzy, the fight winding to an end as Hawke delivered another savage kick to Samson's face. Anders called for him to stop, but Hawke drove his sword into Samson's gut, and Samson jerked, coughing up more blood. Fenris winced as Dorian's hand came over his face, touching his nose, and he felt the rush of a healing spell. Dorian was getting better at it, however, he was far from Anders' level, and the pain lingered. He let Dorian to pull him to his feet, and was relieved when Solas handed him his sword that he'd dropped.

Anders knelt next to Samson, palms filled with healing magic. "I don't think I can…"

"Don't waste your magic on this scum," Hawke spat.

"Hawke, shut up," Anders whispered. "Samson…"

Samson coughed, looking at Anders, a wry chuckle bubbling from within. "You fucking bastard. You want to try to save me. For what? What is this world? What has it ever done for people like us?" He coughed again. "You tell Cullen. You tell that prick… that he needs to open his fucking eyes. The Chantry's a fucking lie. The Maker doesn't exist. The world makes its own gods."

"I can heal you."

"Don't," Samson said, wheezing. He closed his eyes. "If you win this, mage, if you kill my master… burn the Chantry. Burn it all down. Ain't worth trying to fix-" he gasped. "Ain't worth trying to fix something so broken. Burn it. Promise."

Anders looked torn between making a promise to a dying man, and the nature of the promise. "I… I'll…" he tried.

Samson laughed weakly, then his breathing slowed and stopped altogether. Fenris, exhausted, wet, and shivering, leaned heavily against Dorian. Hawke stood awkwardly above Anders and reached for him, but Anders waved his hand away. He closed his eyes, pinching the bridge of his nose, breathing heavily. 

"Anders," Hawke whispered.

Anders pushed him away weakly. Hawke knelt and tried again, and Anders finally accepted the embrace, burying his face against Hawke's chest. Fenris knew that Anders cared too deeply for many things, had seen him go through ranges of emotion very quickly, but had never seen him shed tears for a templar. He thought maybe now he understood why he destroyed Kirkwall's chantry. Not just for the mages, but for all the injustices of a horrible, corrupt system. Samson was just one more victim. And for what he and so many others suffered, Anders wept.


	15. Chapter 15

Anders pulled away from Hawke slowly, wiping his tears. "We have to send someone for his body. We can't leave him here. He deserves a pyre. After what he did for Maddox… He didn't deserve this fate, Hawke." He let out a shuddering breath, his eyes red. He looked exhausted. 

"Love?" Hawke asked quietly, reaching for him again.

"No," Anders said, pushing him away. He stood up, and Fenris saw him sway slightly. "No. He's right. Everything he said. Kicked out of the order for passing love letters." His laughter was quiet and bitter and he covered his face, pressing the heels of his hands against his eyes. "They made Maddox Tranquil for being in love. Don't you see?" He looked at Hawke, then turned to the others imploringly. "I wanted to blame the templars. I did blame them. I've seen people I know, good mages… people I've loved made Tranquil. Raped. Killed. But the templars are a convenient scapegoat. They're just products of the Chantry's brainwashing. They teach them that mages aren't human. That they aren't people. That we shouldn't be allowed to love. That we shouldn't even be allowed to…" He looked down at Samson's body. "To help each other find love. The templars who try to help mages are considered corrupt." He clenched his fists tightly, then relaxed, looking down at the crescent-shaped indents on his palms. He seemed lost. "The Chantry teaches you that you aren't worth anything, mage _or_ templar. They preach faith and love, but what they're really saying is that… that in the eyes of the Maker, being a mage is a sin. And that if you help a mage, that's even worse. And Samson knew it. He saw the corruption. He was a good man. He tried to help a friend. He wanted to make someone happy. He didn't deserve… He-" His voice broke.

When he spoke again, it was barely audible over the wind and the soft murmur of the river. "He didn't want power. He wanted a new god." He sniffed and wiped his eyes again, looking up. "The Maker might exist, but He's no longer looking down at his children. The Chantry's seen to that. So Samson clung to the one thing that was real. Not the lyrium he was addicted to. But the promise of something better than this." He raised his arms and let them drop to his sides, emphasizing his point. "Better than the Chantry taught. Better than they gave him. Even if that meant turning to the first person who ever thought he was worth anything. The first person who could give him something strong enough to believe in." He laughed again, bitter and quiet. "And that person turned out to be a half-mad darkspawn magister. How… how far has the Chantry fallen that he chose Corypheus as his new god over the Maker?"

He took a calming breath, still looking tired, still spent, but he stood with his back straight. "All of this," he said, gesturing down to Samson, then to his own chest. "The Chantry. This war. Kirkwall. Corypheus. _All_ of it happened because of fanatics and arguments about the next world." He leaned down and picked up his staff. "It's time we started believing in _this_ one."

They were silent, all of them contemplating Anders' words. Fenris felt them, making his chest ache painfully. How many times had he looked at his own faith, thought about the Maker and why He would let slavery happen? Though Anders spoke of the southern Chantry, the same questions could be applied to the Imperial Chantry. Slavery and blood magic and all the atrocities he witnessed. His own people being beaten and bled and raped and killed. He'd blamed the corrupt magisters, but the Chantry had blood on its hands too. He looked at Dorian, whose eyes were glassy, blinking hard, and then to Solas, who was staring intently at Anders. 

Anders looked to Hawke. "We have to find Cullen when this is over. Samson will get a proper pyre. I don't care if anyone argues."

"I'll make it happen," Hawke promised.

A rush of magic filled the chamber, halting any further conversation. Abelas regained consciousness and was sprinting up a set of steps forming from the cliff itself, toward the Well. A bird flew overhead, Morrigan intent on getting there first.

"Abelas!" Anders shouted.

They followed him quickly, as fast as their battered bodies could carry them. Morrigan transformed, staff out and sparking with energy, hand up to challenge Abelas as she stood between him and the Well. Abelas looked back at them, glaring, then to Morrigan.

"You heard his parting words, Inquisitor," Morrigan said, a cold hard edge to her voice. "He seeks to destroy the Well of Sorrows!"

"Better it be lost than bestowed upon the undeserving!" Abelas said calmly.

Fenris, winded from the climb, weak from the fight, face and muscles aching, leaned heavily on Dorian. Dorian silently handed him a potion from his belt and Fenris took it gratefully. Whatever would happen next, he hoped, would not end in a physical altercation. He would defend his friends, but he wasn't sure how well he or even Hawke – who seemed to be limping – could hold up against Abelas.

"Fool!" Morrigan shouted. "You would let your people's legacy rot in the shadows!"

"We stopped Samson," Anders said, and though he was quiet, his words carried more weight than Morrigan's. "We're done."

"Then you are a fool as well," Morrigan said, rounding on him. "The Well clearly offers power. If that power can be turned against Corypheus, can you afford not to use it?"

Abelas shook his head sadly. "Do you even know what you ask?"

"Tell us," Anders implored.

"You would rather he destroy the Well than use-"

Anders held up a hand, several blue cracks of magical energy shimmering in his palm. "Stop. Morrigan, just stop. The decision is not yours."

"'Tis _your_ decision then?" she scoffed.

"No. It belongs to Abelas. We are not conquerors, marching our armies across Thedas to obtain ancient artifacts and claim them for ourselves. If the Well must be destroyed, then it must."

Morrigan opened her mouth to speak again, but Anders turned swiftly, eyes flashing blue. Hawke stepped forward and Anders turned that eerie gaze on him. He blinked and the energy faded, though the glare remained.

"Don't," he said to Hawke, his voice flat and even.

Hawke stepped back, and Anders turned to Abelas.

Abelas watched the exchange carefully and sighed, stepping up to the edge of the Well. "As each servant of Mythal reached the end of their years, they would pass their knowledge on through this. All that we were, all that we knew. It would be lost forever."

Fenris heard the pain in his words and couldn't imagine what it was like for him. Striving your entire life for one goal, to give that up… Well. He looked at Dorian. They'd both been on similar paths, heading toward an end in life. For himself it was to serve Danarius. He'd stepped off and now was forging his own destiny. And for Dorian, it was to continue the Pavus legacy. They'd met somewhere on their individual journeys, thrown from their intended courses. Abelas had been walking his path much longer, his burden heavier. But he would survive it. He was strong enough.

"There are other places, friend," Solas said gently. "Other duties. Your people yet linger."

Abelas looked at him, to Fenris, and back to Solas. "Elvhen such as you?"

"Yes, such as we."

Abelas looked down at the Well's shimmering surface and his shoulders dropped, all resistance gone. "You have shown respect to Mythal, and there is a righteousness in you I cannot deny." He looked up at Anders. "If you were to partake of the vir'abelasan, would you use it to fight your enemy?"

Anders nodded. "Yes. Nothing more."

"No boon of Mythal was ever granted without cost," Abelas warned. "The vir'abelasan may be too much for a mortal to comprehend. Brave it if you must, but know you this: you shall be bound forever to the will of Mythal."

Morrigan laughed. "Bound? To a goddess who no longer exists, if she ever did?"

"Bound," Abelas repeated, "as we are bound. The choice is yours."

"Legend states that Mythal was tricked by Fen'Harel and locked into the Beyond."

Fenris saw Solas shaking his head, and wondered if the story was different from what Morrigan recalled, or if perhaps he knew more. Abelas, however, was speaking again.

"'Elven' legend is wrong. The Dread Wolf had nothing to do with her murder."

"Murder?" Morrigan said, surprised. "I said nothing of-"

"She was slain, if a god truly can be. Betrayed by those who destroyed this temple."

Fenris longed to ask him what he meant, and looked again to Solas, who was peering at Abelas, appraising him.

"Where will you go?" Anders asked. "You could return to Skyhold with us. You could teach your stories to the elves."

"Would the elves of your world listen?"

"They might," Fenris said, eagerly. "I would. I…" He looked at Solas, who nodded. "Many would want to hear the history."

Abelas smiled sadly. "Perhaps. It may be that Uthenera awaits us. The blissful sleep of eternity, never to awaken. If fate is kind," he added. "Take what the Well can offer you."

Solas spoke to him imploringly in elven. Abelas nodded, and with a swish of his cloak, turned and walked determinedly away. Fenris looked at Solas, who was frowning.

"His name. It means 'sorrow'. I said… I hope he finds a new name."

"He will," Fenris assured him. "Wherever he goes."


	16. Chapter 16

They stood in silence a moment, contemplating Abelas's departure, Fenris saddened by the idea that after centuries of long-standing guardianship of the temple, the Sentinels would move on. To Uthenera, to death? He'd never felt a strong connection to other elves before, but now more than ever he longed to understand the history of his people and how they'd become so divided. Whatever war occurred in Elvhenan that caused their destruction. Perhaps one day he would ask Solas to take him across Thedas to study the ruins of their people, and maybe he would be brave enough to step into another dream to learn more.

Morrigan tutted, as if the entire conversation was merely an annoyance to her. She turned, arms folded. "You'll note the intact eluvian. I was correct on that count, at least."

"Bravo," Dorian said lightly. "One of few. Little help here, Anders," he said, setting Fenris down carefully.

Anders knelt, examining the wounds on Fenris. "He's fine. Just exhausted. We'll return soon. I only hope that Cullen's men were able to…" He shook his head. "With any luck we'll be safe here, find an alternate way out. Just sit for now," he said, gently patting Fenris on the arm, and returned to Morrigan.

Dorian crouched next to Fenris, looking him over.

"I'm fine," Fenris sighed. A nice warm bath and a very long sleep. Perhaps a hot meal. He glanced up at Hawke, and noticed he was flagging as well. They wouldn't survive another fight.

"We'll need to take care of this, then," Anders said. "Seal it somehow so Corypheus can't use it."

Morrigan's lips parted into a sly smile. "The Well appears to be the key to this eluvian. Take the Well's power, and Mythal's last eluvian will be no more use to Corypheus than glass."

Fenris felt an itching in his markings. The same type of magic that was in the Arbor Wilds was here. Or perhaps it emanated from the Well itself. He frowned, whispering to Dorian, "Do you think that…"

"Hm?"

He shook his head. "Later."

The eluvians were connected somehow, through some type of magic. Perhaps it would be possible to use them to their advantage. To root out the magisters who were like Danarius, the ones who beat their slaves or bled them, and use the magic in the mirrors to save the slaves. To move them from Tevinter to somewhere else. Ferelden, perhaps, where they could be free. But would Dorian even entertain the notion? Fenris decided he would keep the idea tucked away for now.

"I did not expect the Well to feel so… hungry," Morrigan mused. "Knowledge begets knowledge." She turned to Anders. "Let me drink from the Well. I am willing to pay the price."

"You don't even know what it is," Anders scowled. "It could be worse than death."

"Of those present, I alone have the training to make use of this. Let me drink, Inquisitor."

"And I thought I was arrogant," Dorian laughed mirthlessly.

Anders glanced back at him before looking to Morrigan. "You alone? That's… rich. I understand that study is imperative, but-"

"Can you honestly tell me there is anyone better suited?"

"Me."

Hawke finally stepped in. "No."

Anders looked at him. "This isn't your decision."

"The flames it isn't!" Hawke shouted. "Time and time again I've seen you throw yourself forward, sacrifice yourself for this world that doesn't give a shit about you. When are you going to stop being so bloody selfless? When you're dead? When I'm holding your dead body, Anders? Is that when?" He reached up to take Anders' arm in a vice-grip. "Sure, you're the Inquisitor. The Herald of Andraste. You are a catalyst in a lot of things, but I swear to the Maker and everything holy, I will not lose you to a damned pond! I can't, I-" 

His voice broke, and Fenris saw a few tears spill into his beard. They were all exhausted, all too tired to argue anymore, and Hawke was no exception.

Anders had been gearing up to counter the argument, but swallowed hard and nodded. He reached up and cupped Hawke's face, brushing away the tears with his thumbs, then kissed him softly. "All right, love. All right."

"Then it is settled," Morrigan said.

"Fuck it is," Hawke growled. He looked at Dorian, then to Solas, then back at Morrigan. "I'm going to do it."

"Hawke!" Anders protested. "You just-"

"Let me do this for you, Anders," Hawke said, reaching up, taking his chin in hand. "I said once that I would do anything you asked."

"I'm not asking-"

"You don't have to," Hawke said with a small smile. "It's a price I'll pay for you and for the Inquisition so you don't have to. I'll be fine. And if not, you can take care of me." He pressed his forehead to Anders', one hand snaking around his waist.

Fenris looked away, heat rising in his cheeks. He noticed Solas turned as well, and Dorian was staring determinedly at the ground to give them their privacy as they kissed. It was an intensely intimate moment, and he wondered what he would have done in Hawke's position. Take the Well's power to keep Dorian safe? Absolutely. Without question. He looked at him now, and Dorian winked at him. Fenris leaned up to kiss his cheek, pleased when Dorian's smile widened. He struggled to his feet as Hawke let go of Anders and stepped down into the Well, water rippling around him.

"Not so bad," Hawke said. "Like a warm bath." He stood in in the middle of the Well.

"This is foolish," Morrigan protested. "The Well's knowledge will go to waste!"

"Shut up," Fenris growled, too tired to listen to the arguments any longer.

The water came to Hawke's waist, though it suffered great unrest now, and Fenris felt the magic hanging heavily in the air. Like the electricity before a storm, causing his markings to flare and glow, and he flexed his fingers. Dorian took his hand, and there was a definite pulse of magic between them. The fatigue left him, and he stretched his muscles discreetly, feeling alive. Little zings of magic, blue and green, zipping around like fireflies, surrounded Hawke as he cupped his hands and drank.

For a moment it seemed as if nothing would happen, then in a rush of wind, the water from the Well rose up like a tidal wave. Fenris, already soaked from his fall in the river, tried to shield Dorian best he could from the swell of water. It was impossible; in a moment they were all sopping wet. Anders didn't care, and he down into the now empty Well, slipping on the golden bricks. He pulled an unconscious Hawke into his lap.

"Hawke?!"

Hawke's eyes fluttered open and he looked around in a panic, a string of elven words falling from his lips in an incoherent babble. In all his time with Hawke, Fenris had never once heard him speak even a single word of the language.

"There you are," Anders soothed, hand on his blood-stained breastplate. "There you are. You're fine."

"Saying that to comfort me or you?" Hawke managed, grunting as he sat up. "Head rush." He pressed the heels of his palms to his eyes.

"What was it like?" Dorian asked, as they slowly approached.

"Weirdest shit I've ever been through."

Fenris exchanged a look with Dorian.

"Out of all the things you've done," Dorian said, helping Anders pull Hawke to his feet, "drinking from a thousands-year old well was the weirdest? …Well I guess you might have a point. But what-"

The magic in the Well, it seemed, was not finished with them. A cloud of blackness, smoke or shadow, billowed around them. They closed ranks, Fenris gripping his sword, but how did you fight smoke? An anguished cry sounded above them, and they realized at once that the smoke was not their problem. Corypheus, alone but intact, leapt from the railing across the chamber and was moving fast through the air toward them. Fenris had never seen such magic, and was gripped by disbelief and terror.

"Through the mirror!" Anders called, shoving them back. "Now!"

The mirror lit up, pulsating with a bluish green sheen, the glass fading into a portal-like surface. Between probable death and the unknown, Fenris would gladly take the unknown. He didn't hesitate. Grabbing Dorian's hand he followed Morrigan and Solas through, trusting that Anders and Hawke would be right behind.


	17. Chapter 17

Navigating the 'crossroads' as Morrigan dubbed them was unlike anything Fenris ever experienced. The only otherworldly place he'd ever traversed was the Fade. While the Fade ignited in him a quiet sort of fear, the crossroads had an extremely strange calming effect on him. The soft mist surrounding them was unlike the Fade's nauseatingly green and grey haze. They moved quickly toward another eluvian and fell through into Skyhold, a room that Fenris never before explored. Morrigan turned, closing the portal with a wave of her hand.

"It is done."

But Anders wasn't listening to her. He was cupping Hawke's face, looking into his eyes, checking for any signs of pain or discomfort. Fenris felt Dorian next to him, and slid his arm easily around his waist, leaning against him. They were all uncomfortably soaking wet from the Well, adrenaline running high. Fenris heard Hawke's whispered assurances to Anders that he was fine, just a headache.

"I have to send word," Anders said finally, and looked down at himself. "We need to regroup, to call the men back from the Wilds. Are you all…"

"I am quite well, Inquisitor," Solas said. "I think I'll change and find a quiet place to go to sleep. I'll return for dinner."

Anders nodded and looked to Fenris and Dorian.

"The baths for us," Dorian said. "Unless you need us for anything."

Anders looked quite exhausted as he shook his head. "No. Just be ready. Wherever Corypheus is, wherever he's going to strike next, we need to be ready. We've kept the Well and the eluvian away from him, but I'm sure he has other plans. I have messages to send. I'll find you if I need you."

Fenris followed Dorian out, a quick stop to their room to strip their weapons and armor and gather a few necessities before heading toward the corridor that led them beneath Skyhold. A few of Skyhold's residents gave them odd looks as they passed, likely not expecting to see them for a few weeks at the very least. Fenris wondered how long it would take the others to get back, and the soldiers. Or even how the soldiers were doing in the battle. Suddenly he felt sick.

"What is it?" Dorian asked, having to stop and turn back when Fenris paused, leaning against a wall. "Are you feeling all right?"

"We left them. The soldiers. Cullen's troops. Leliana's scouts. In the forest."

Dorian kissed his forehead, fingers threading through his hair. He cupped the back of his neck, hand warm against his damp skin. "Abelas will have called his elves back. Cullen's troops are more than a match for the red templars and the others. He knows how to lead them. And Leliana's agents are deadly and quick. Do you think a bunch of possessed Grey Wardens have a chance against her assassins?"

Fenris looked up at him. "And the Venatori?"

"Well…" Dorian said, his tone heavy with teasing. "They _are_ talented Tevinter mages, so – OW!"

Fenris reached out and pinched him through his robes. "I just feel…"

Dorian guided him away from the wall, down the corridor toward the baths. "We've done all we could, Fenris. And with everyone so emotional after what happened… Did you see Anders' face? His eyes? And Hawke after he drank from the Well, I'm not sure he could've handled a duel with Corypheus. Do you honestly think we would have survived if not for the eluvian?"

They stepped into the low underground room which was easily the hottest place in Skyhold. In addition to the dozen hot springs, the Inquisition's artificers added fire pits that vented through the walls. Privacy screens stretched around a few of the smaller pools, and there were always bins stacked high with clean towels. The artificers created a cordoned off area with pumps and brushes and drains for scrubbing yourself off before you soaked, and the entire place was not unlike the public bathhouses in Tevinter. They went to the pumps first, both peeling out of their sweat-soaked and blood-stained clothing.

"You're right," Fenris sighed, filling a bucket with tepid water.

"I usually am," Dorian said, and took the washcloth from Fenris's hands. He pushed him onto a stool. "Let me. Then you can return the favor."

Fenris closed his eyes, letting Dorian scrub him down. They usually did this for one another, an intimate act in itself. Fenris at first found it odd. Though far removed now from his slave mentality, having someone else taking care of him in such a way was strange. That Dorian enjoyed it, a task that was arguably a servant's job, was even stranger.

_"I like touching you. It doesn't matter why."_

_"But it's a slave's duty to wash his master, not-"_

_"A lover's? It's perfectly normal. And as my lover, you ought to get used to it. I like it when you smell like soap rather than dirt and blood."_

Fenris smiled, recalling the conversation. It was the little things that Dorian did that made him feel loved and wanted. The quiet moments of touching concern, the intimacy of a meal together. Or now, as he felt Dorian work his skilled fingers through his hair, lathering it up.

"Eyes closed, head back."

Fenris leaned back, felt Dorian cup his hand against his forehead to keep the water and soap out of his eyes, and relaxed, leaning against him. He also felt Dorian's cock against his shoulder, insistent and begging for attention. He reached up, making a noise of protest when Dorian pulled away.

"That's for later," Dorian promised, his voice low and sultry. "You're done. My turn."

Fenris vacated the stool and let Dorian sit so he could wash him. He watched the sudsy water move over his dark skin and traced a few freckles with his fingertip before scrubbing him down gently with a washcloth. It was Dorian's physique that always intrigued him. To him, mages had always been lazy and fat, letting their servants do everything for them. And while Dorian was arguably lazy and spoiled, he was obviously vain. He would never let himself go like so many magisters. Not that Fenris thought the idea would turn him off, it was just another point on a long list of the differences between Dorian and so many others.

"Head back," he ordered.

Dorian grinned up at him, and Fenris leaned down to kiss him softly, if a little awkwardly, before carefully rinsing his hair.

"I need a trim, I think," Dorian mused. "Such an odd thing to worry about as we approach the end of the world, isn't it?"

Fenris laughed, setting the bucket aside, and pulled Dorian toward one of the smaller pools. He dropped their towels and a vial of massage oil off to the side. "If you stopped primping and preening, I really do think it would be the end of the world." He watched Dorian sink into the pool, then pulled the privacy screen.

"Why Fenris, one would think you were getting dirty thoughts in your head with that kind of behavior. Planning on doing something you don't want anyone else to see?"

Fenris smirked and climbed down, settling on one of the comfortable benches the artificers built. "Dirty thoughts?"

"Whyever else would you need to pull the privacy screen?" Dorian asked, gliding through the blissfully hot water toward him.

"Maybe I just don't like it when other people look at you."

Dorian tutted. "I am gorgeous. People _should_ look at me."

It was true. One time they were in the baths, Scout Harding was scrubbing down. She kept casting looks at them, Dorian insisting on kissing Fenris, unable to keep his hands to himself. Fenris was horribly embarrassed, but Dorian loved to put on a show, and Harding had definitely appreciated it.

"Are you jealous?" Dorian asked, kneeling between his legs, hands on his knees, sliding up his thighs.

"Jealous? Should I be?" Fenris asked, leaning back against the ridge of the pool. Steam rose from the surface of the water, clear enough that he could see Dorian's arousal. "Are you here with anyone else or are you here with me?"

"Only you," Dorian promised, running his hands up Fenris's chest, threading his fingers together behind his neck. "I love you."

Fenris blushed, pleased at the words, the open and easy affection, and how simple Dorian found to say it now. "I love you, too."

"Do you think you'd fuck me?"

Fenris laughed. "Here? Anyone could walk in."

"Let them."

Fenris inhaled sharply as Dorian unclasped his hands, one resting on his thigh, the other fisting his cock, stroking slowly. He closed his eyes, letting his head drop against the side of the pool. It was uncomfortable, rocky, but Dorian's fingers were like warm silk around him. After the long days of marching, sleeping in tents, eating rations, and then everything that transpired in the temple, this was exactly what he needed.

"I could just bring you off like this," Dorian said, almost casual in his tone. There was an undercurrent of wanting that slightly ruined the effect. "But I'd rather you be inside me."

Fenris nodded, running his fingers back through his hair, forehead slightly sweaty with the heat of the bath and his arousal. "Let me get…" He reached for the massage oil, uncorking it.

Dorian grinned, a spark in his eye as he stood and turned around. Fenris reached up, one hand gripping his perfectly sculpted ass, thumb brushing over the cheek.

"I do love it when you worship me," Dorian chuckled. He bent double, presenting himself, and Fenris couldn't help but laugh. "Tell me how gorgeous I am and what a nice bum I have."

"You are ridiculous," Fenris said, but pressed a firm kiss to the cheek he'd been massaging.

Dorian wriggled impatiently while Fenris coated his fingers in the oil. Setting it aside, he drew them up the cleft of Dorian's ass, brushing his scrotum, enjoying the soft moan as he separated him, finding his hole.

"Now I'm starting to wish we'd done this up in the room," Dorian breathed. "One of those glass toys we bought in Val Royeaux up inside me while I sucked you off."

"Mm. We did that once already," Fenris reminded him, slipping a finger inside.

Dorian's thighs shook slightly, and Fenris guided him to his hands and knees. Dorian stretched like a cat, keeping his head up and his backside out of the water so Fenris could continue to finger him.

"And you wouldn't want a repeat performance?" Dorian breathed.

"I would. But I'm not leaving this bath to go get it."

Dorian laughed. "Good point."

They fell silent as Fenris worked another finger inside him, using a bit more oil. When he grabbed it from their room, he figured this would have been the inevitable outcome, but still delighted in the anticipation of their coupling. Dorian pushed him away after a few minutes, panting heavily.

"I can't take it anymore. I need you."

Fenris was about to move, to get on his knees as well to slide inside, but Dorian was in his lap a second later, holding his cock steady, sheathing himself in a quick, practiced motion that took Fenris's breath from his lungs.

"Dorian!"

"Needed you," Dorian said by way of apology.

Fenris kissed his back, just between his shoulder blades, and wrapped his arms around him. He couldn't do much, Dorian's weight keeping him pinned to the bench, but he took his cock in hand and stroked him.

"Ngh… Fenris… I…"

"Hm?"

"Fucking love you."

Fenris laughed, then groaned as Dorian tightened around him and started to move. Using the bench as leverage, he bounced slowly, then with renewed enthusiasm, and Fenris moved his hands to Dorian's hips, thrusting up to meet him.

"Fuck," Dorian hissed. "Fuck, so good."

"Yes," Fenris whispered, trying to keep his eyes open, to watch as Dorian impaled himself over and over. 

His hips ached, they would be bruised, but he didn't care. The water sloshed over the side of the pool, likely soaking their towels as Dorian moved faster, needy whimpers escaping his lips. Fenris dug his nails into Dorian's skin, he knew he would leave marks, but all that mattered was the friction, the tight heat of Dorian's ass as he buried himself inside his lover. Anyone could have walked in and heard them, known exactly what they were doing, and Dorian didn't seem to care, his vocal, throaty moans echoing off the cavern's walls.

"Fenris! Fuck me! Harder!"

The rocky edge of the pool dug into Fenris's back, his thighs burning with exhaustion as he thrust, but he did as Dorian begged him to, the loud slapping of his hips against Dorian's ass he pulled him down again and again. He shut his eyes, the muscles in his stomach taut, so close, he was so close, he just needed a little more. His lyrium markings flared suddenly, sending a sizzling pleasure through every line and he thrust once more and came hard. He held Dorian there, holding his hips, trying to remember how to breathe.

Then he heard Dorian shout and swear, a string of Tevene slipping from his lips. And then he felt… heat? Smelled smoke?

" _Kaffas_!"

He opened his eyes, trying to catch his breath and realized the partition was on fire. Wood and paper natural kindling, and he couldn't help laughing even as Dorian panicked, scooping water and tossing it onto the partition, dousing it. With a splash, Dorian fell back into the pool, the water up to his chin. He wiped his face off, laughing as well.

"What-" Fenris tried to catch his breath. "What happened?"

"Lost control," Dorian admitted, taking a breath. "Maker's breath, Fenris, I saw stars."

Fenris grinned, feeling proud of himself as he eased off the bench, kneeling over Dorian. He leaned down and kissed him hard. "Good."

Dorian let out another breathless laugh. "I think perhaps we should… continue upstairs. And pay for that partition."

Fenris nuzzled his cheek. "I'll… ah… get dry towels," he said, skin still tingling. "…I cannot believe you lost control."

"Shut up, you stupid elf. It's your fault."

Fenris kissed him, then bit Dorian's bottom lip gently before he stood. He looked at the burnt up partition, smirking a bit vainly.

_I wonder how else I could make him lose control…_

With that thought, he went to retrieve the towels.


	18. Chapter 18

Several tense days passed while they waited to receive a response from Leliana. When the message came in that she, Cullen, and a small contingent of soldiers were returning from the Wilds to Skyhold with good news, there was a definite release of collectively held breaths. However, the idea of waiting around for whatever would happen next was not a welcome one, and Fenris was extremely restless. Dorian left early that morning to seek out Anders to continue his training, and he was alone. As he'd not written to Alexius or Felix in some time (and truth be told he often left it to Dorian to put in a paragraph or two of dictation when he wrote), he sat down and took up a pen, dipping it into the ink pot.

_Felix,_

_Things are strange. I cannot begin to describe life at Skyhold right now, but I think our stay here is coming to an end soon. It will be good to come back home. I miss ~~Menreth~~ ~~Minrithohs~~ the city and you. I'd like to tell you about all the things that happind in person insted of writing them. You might not beleeve the things I have to say._

_How is your father? And your ~~finasay~~ Livia? Dorian is excited for the wedding. He keeps talking about cakes and hosting the party. If you do not let him throw the party, I think he will be upset. You know how he is when he does not get his own way._

Fenris paused, tapping the end of the pen against his lip as he thought of what else to say. Letters were never something he ever thought he'd have to deal with. When Danarius dictated to his scribe, they were pages long. However, they were usually about things going on in the senate or with whatever project he'd been working on. Very rarely were they personal. What did you write to someone when you wanted to tell them you missed seeing them? He looked down at the blocky letters, the scribbled out errors. Felix deserved better. With a sigh, he took a fresh paper from the stack, copied it over neatly, and finished it.

_I hope to see you and your father soon and tell you all about Skyhold._

_Your frend,_

_Fenris_

There. That would have to do. He would put it in with the next letter Dorian sent off. Still feeling restless though, he took up his sword in its leather sheath and set out to find Hawke. If Dorian and Anders were practicing their magic, perhaps he would enjoy some company. He liked sparring with Hawke, appreciated his ability to say a lot with few words. And when he, Hawke, and Cassandra practiced together, it reminded him of his training with Felix, ending the days exhausted but feeling fulfilled. He needed that now.

Inquiring as to Hawke's whereabouts led him to the gardens. He avoided this place except when he was with Dorian. The presence of the Chantry was stronger here, Mother Giselle and a few sisters milling around, and Fenris never felt comfortable here on his own. It was easier to forget about his faith or lack thereof - he wasn't sure how he felt - when he wasn't being reminded of it by way of the Chantry's sunburst sigil. Not to mention the fact that Mother Giselle seemed wary of him and somewhat cold and dismissive toward Dorian, and he wasn't sure where he stood with her. Still, a thorough search of the garden turned up no traces of Hawke, so he swallowed his pride and anxiety and approached.

"Er. Excuse me."

She smiled serenely at him. "How can I help you?"

At least she hadn't addressed him with a diminutive like, 'my child' or something similar. Even Solas avoided calling him _da'len_. He took affection from Dorian easily, but from anyone else in Skyhold it simply felt patronizing.

"I'm looking for Hawke, if you've seen him."

"Ah, he followed the hedge witch not too long ago." She nodded toward a corner of the garden, frowning. "I would take precaution. He seemed… agitated."

Agitated? Hawke? Fenris wondered if Mother Giselle had ever spoken to him. Hawke always seemed agitated, even when he wasn't. He thanked her and jogged toward the door she pointed out, feeling anxiety settling heavily in his stomach. The room with the eluvian. And when he entered the room, his fears were confirmed. The eluvian glowed with faint, shimmering waves of blue and violet, the surface rippling like water. He glanced behind him, wondering if he should run for Anders and Dorian. But if Hawke had already gone in, and if he was in trouble, there might not be enough time. Unwilling to lose his friend to whatever mysterious fate the eluvian held, he stepped through with great trepidation, gripping his sword.

It was like walking through a cool waterfall without getting wet. However, when his feet hit solid ground on the other side, the anxiety he felt turned immediately into nausea. The Fade. He was back in the Fade. He stepped back unconsciously, his foot hitting the eluvian which sealed itself. Panic swelled in his breast and he swallowed thickly, trying to keep himself focused. He wasn't alone. Hawke had to be here somewhere. Willing himself forward, he began to search.

It was just as how he remembered. Sickly green sky, a weird rolling mist, cavernous walls, stalagmites shooting up from the ground. The wisps that floated around seemed content to mostly ignore him, coming close to smell his lyrium before meandering away. It was extremely unnerving, but despite his sweating palms and dry mouth, he pushed forward, rounding a corner.

"Hawke!"

Hawke was just ahead, Morrigan with him, looking around frantically. Hawke turned, frowning when he saw him. Fenris was relieved, jogging up to meet him.

"You real?" Hawke asked.

"I came through the eluvian to look for you. I didn't realize…"

"How fucked up it was? Morrigan lost her son."

Fenris raised an eyebrow. He'd seen the boy around the gardens when he watched Cullen and Dorian play chess, but had never been introduced. "In here? How?"

"Apparently the kid has more power than she thought. Help us look?" Hawke asked.

Fenris was about to protest, but he caught the look on Morrigan's face. Worried, near terrified. The arrogance was gone and in her expression he saw what she was: a mother fearful for her child. He remembered Florentina, Felix's mother, how she used to look at Felix. Such pride and love. How could he turn away now? He might not have cared for Morrigan, for how she talked to Dorian and treated Anders, but he couldn't walk away from this. He nodded. Morrigan gave him a grateful look, thanking him quietly before turning to call for Kieran again. Fenris followed them, unable to shake the feeling of being watched. He hated the Fade and all its unnaturalness, and while he hoped Morrigan's son was safe, he hoped more that this would be over soon.

"No," Morrigan gasped.

Fenris looked ahead, feeling relieved to see the boy. But next to him knelt… an old woman? A trick of the Fade? Spirit? Demon? He clutched his sword tightly, ready to activate the runes, but Hawke held out a hand.

"Is that…"

"It cannot be," Morrigan said in disbelief.

Fenris and Hawke followed her, Fenris recoiling a bit at the magic he felt between Kieran and the woman. It made his markings itch and he didn't want to get too close.

Kieran smiled and waved at Morrigan. "Mother!"

Morrigan frowned as the woman got to her feet. "Mother."

But she did not share in Kieran's excitement, and Fenris realized this woman – this very, very powerful woman who was somehow in the Fade itself – was Morrigan's mother.

Hawke let out a bark of laughter. "Fancy seeing you here."

The woman raised an eyebrow, her red lips curled into a smirk. "Well. This is a surprise," she purred, her voice sweet as honey as it washed over Fenris.

He shivered, remaining silent, hoping not to be noticed for this reunion. That Hawke was amused rather than angry or frightened helped ease his anxiety, however.

"You're looking well," Hawke said.

"It's refreshing to see how the times have changed and yet you remain as polite as the day we've met. The years haven't been kind to you, though," she said, somewhat sympathetically.

Morrigan scowled. "You _know_ her?"

Hawke shrugged. "Flemeth saved my life."

Flemeth? Now that was a name that Fenris heard, but only in tales. A Witch of the Wilds. And she was apparently Morrigan's mother. It explained how Morrigan got her powers, anyway.

"Not for free," Flemeth said.

"The price was worth it," Hawke added. "You held your end of the bargain. Fair is fair."

This seemed to amuse Flemeth. She threw her head back, a hearty bubble of laughter escaping her lips. "You know that's what I've always liked about you. So practical. So unlike my daughter."

Morrigan's eyes narrowed. "Release my son."

"As if I were holding the boy hostage." She looked at Hawke. "She's always been ungrateful, you see."

"Ungrateful!?" Morrigan sputtered. "I know how you plan to extend your life, wicked crone! You will not have me and you will not have my son!"

Fenris frowned, hand still on his sword. Hawke spoke to Flemeth as if she was an old friend, and yet Morrigan seemed completely unbound by her. Before Flemeth could say anything to defend herself however, Morrigan's palms filled with a blue-white light.

Flemeth's eyes narrowed. "That's enough. You'll endanger the boy. Hawke, be a good lad and restrain her." She waved a hand in a gesture that seemed casual, but Fenris felt the power behind it.

"What the-" Hawke jerked, moving fast, arm around Morrigan's middle as he shoved her back.

"What are you doing?!" Morrigan snarled.

"I didn't – I don't know!"

"Of course you know," Flemeth said. "You drank from the Well, did you not?"

Fenris's eyes widened in realization. Bound to the will of Mythal. "You are her," he said, stepping forward without thinking. "You are Mythal."

"How…" Hawke started, shaking his head a little. He pressed the heel of his hand to his forehead.

"How is that possible?" Fenris asked. "Abelas said she was murdered."

"Legends and stories," Flemeth said.

"You're not elven."

Flemeth smirked. "And you are not one of the People. Would you be offended on their behalf, regardless, to find out that I carry the spirit of Mythal inside me?"

Fenris frowned. "No. The Dalish gods are not my gods."

"You aren't even sure if you have a god," Flemeth finished for him. "You think yourself a lost soul, hovering between one station and another, unworthy still. You know the truth, boy. Take it for yourself and don't let anyone else stand in your way. Your chains are gone, the cage is torn open. You've taken the steps and now you must leap."

Hawke snorted. "She's always saying stuff like that."

"I say them because they are true."

"I'm bound to you now," Hawke pressed.

"Mm. I will endeavor not to abuse that, but I make no promises."

"… Disturbing, but all right."

Flemeth gently pressed Kieran forward. The boy, silent while they spoke, ran now to Morrigan, who embraced him tightly, tears pricking her eyes.

"I'm sorry, Mother," Kieran said, as Morrigan cupped his cheek. "I heard her calling to me. She said now was the time."

Morrigan looked to Flemeth. "You cannot have my son. I will _not_ allow it."

The pieces slowly fell together. Mythal, a spirit or a goddess or whatever she was, found Flemeth. Flemeth was an abomination or something like it, and a very powerful one. One who, if Morrigan was telling the truth, extended her life by somehow using the bodies of others.

Hawke seemed to have other ideas, though. Ignoring Morrigan, he asked, "You know what we're up against."

"Better than you could possibly imagine," Flemeth said gravely.

"Will you help us?"

Flemeth's cool yellow eyes settled on Kieran. "Once I have what I came for."

"No!" Morrigan shouted.

For a moment, Fenris thought that Hawke would tell her to be quiet, that any price was worth it to rid themselves of Corypheus.

"No," Hawke repeated Morrigan's cry, much more calmly. "There has to be another price we can pay."

"I am not the only one carrying the soul of one long thought lost," Flemeth said, her gaze fixed on Kieran.

Fenris felt his head starting to pound. Morrigan's son, an abomination? Suddenly it made more sense than Mythal merely wanting the body of a child. It explained how he could use the eluvian and enter the Fade.

"Mother, I have to," Kieran said, head slightly tilted as if he couldn't comprehend why she was so upset.

"Why come for him now?" Hawke asked. "After all these years."

"I did not know where he was," Flemeth admitted. "Morrigan hid him from me. Until now."

"The Well," Morrigan realized.

"And you wanted to drink from it," Hawke said, an edge of sarcasm to his tone. He looked at Flemeth. "Don't ask Morrigan to give up her son."

"Take my life instead," Morrigan pleaded.

Flemeth closed her eyes and sighed. "All right. A proposal." She pierced Morrigan with her chilling stare. "Let me take the lad and you are free of me forever. I will never interfere with or harm you again. Or keep the lad with you… and you will never be safe from me. I will have my due."

"He returns with me," Morrigan said at once. "I am many things, but I will not be the mother you were to me."

Fenris watched the battle of wills, Morrigan with her emotions on her sleeve, as he'd never seen her before. Truth be told he didn't know her very well, but it seemed this display was out of the ordinary for her. Flemeth's expression softened, turning wistful, perhaps a little sad, and she turned to look at Kieran. He glanced up at her, face full of bemusement. With a slight shake of her head, Flemeth took Kieran's hands, and Fenris felt his markings activate, saw their soft glow as Flemeth used some kind of strange magic. A quiet, subtle bit of energy escaped Kieran's chest, as if Flemeth was siphoning it from him. It hung between them a moment, a swirl of blue-green mist, tongues of cold flame lapping at the air, seeking something. It pulled toward Flemeth and sunk into her chest, finding a new home.

Kieran's eyes widened. "No more dreams?"

Flemeth smiled. "No more dreams." She released him, pushing him gently toward Morrigan. "A soul is not forced upon the unwilling, Morrigan. You were never in danger from me." She looked to Hawke as Morrigan embraced Kieran tightly. "Fate or chance…"

"Maybe both," Hawke said.

"I will grant you the aid you seek to defeat Corypheus, namely his dragon. I only hope you use it wisely. Let the voices in your head guide you to an ancient wood just outside your Skyhold. There you will find what you need."

"I suppose the riddles will never end."

"You would get bored if they did," Flemeth said with a laugh. She nodded to Fenris. "Take care of Dorian. That boy treads with all the caution of a spoiled child in a toy store."

Fenris couldn't stop the laugh that escaped him, whether nerves and anxiety, or because she spoke the truth. Before he could respond though, she turned and walked away, ignoring Morrigan's plaintive cry for her to wait. And then she was gone.


	19. Chapter 19

Morrigan thanked them as they exited the Fade. Fenris was simply grateful to be back on solid ground and out of that place, he hoped, for good this time. He and Hawke left the garden together, giving Morrigan privacy to speak with her son.

"How do you know her?"

"Flemeth?" Hawke said. "Mythal, I guess. Like I said, she saved my life. We were running from the darkspawn and she appeared. This great giant dragon in the sky swooping down to save us."

"Seriously?" Not that Fenris thought Hawke would lie about something like that or embellish on a tale to make it seem grander. It wasn't his way.

"Mm. She gave me this amulet that had a piece of her inside it. I delivered it to a Dalish clan on Sundermount. We spoke again and… I honestly never thought I'd see her again. She's still as cryptic as ever. Bit freaky now that she's inside my head. Hope she doesn't watch when I fuck Anders."

Fenris smirked, looking away to hide a blush. Hawke was about as blunt as Dorian when it came to sex. He didn't begrudge him that, though. It was good to see his friend happy. "We need to tell them what happened."

"And look for this ancient forest," Hawke agreed. "Flemeth's powerful. We'd be stupid not to accept her help."

They fell silent as they walked toward the mage tower above the garden. Fenris avoided it here, if only because of the way the magic made his skin feel. While Dagna's crystal helped immensely, he tried not to go out of his way to walk directly into situations that would make the brandings worse. They climbed the tower, stopping at the top of the stairs, and Hawke nudged him a little. Fenris looked. Dorian and Anders had their backs to the stairs, working side by side quietly, Anders guiding Dorian's hand over the leg of a wounded scout.

"Feel the muscle."

"I do," Dorian breathed.

"Adjust the magic like we practiced, you'll feel a pull. Don't worry, I've numbed him. He's unconscious. He won't feel it. Watch it. Slowly."

Fenris smiled when Dorian performed the magic, then looked at Anders, eyes wide.

"I've never been able to do that before!"

"See, it's not hard," Anders said. "You've vastly improved since the last time."

"Well of course I have," Dorian said, pride heavy in his tone.

Hawke stepped forward, sliding his arms around Anders' waist. Fenris watched Anders as he grinned and looked up to accept the kiss, keeping his blood-covered hands away from Hawke. Dorian looked over his shoulder, doing a double take when he saw Fenris, and his face lit up. Fenris felt a warmth in his stomach, his earlier anxiety and apprehension fading as Dorian looked back to Anders.

"Go," Anders said. "I'll finish up."

Dorian grabbed a towel and crossed the room, leaning down to kiss Fenris, who laughed at the enthusiasm. He held Dorian at arm's length, dodging when Dorian tried to grab him.

"No, we have to talk," he said, accepting another kiss before pushing him toward a wash basin.

"Talk?"

"We have news," Hawke said, crossing the room to sit at a small table while Anders finished healing his patient, and Dorian started cleaning up.

Fenris moved against the wall, out of the way while he listened to Hawke's story, recounting the events of the Fade, of Morrigan and her son, of Flemeth. Anders nearly dropped the tray of supplies he was holding when he heard Flemeth's name, Dorian there to take it from him.

"Flemeth."

"Flemeth," Hawke repeated.

"Hang on." Anders walked to the railing and called down for two other mages.

Fenris watched as they ascended, and Anders ordered them to move the man downstairs to rest and recuperate. While they transported him to a stretcher, Anders washed his hands, thanking them as they left. And once they were alone again, he turned back to Hawke.

"All right. Explain."

"She's Mythal."

Anders pinched the bridge of his nose. "I said 'explain', Hawke, not make things more complicated."

"She is," Fenris said.

"How is that even possible?" Dorian asked. "A legend herself with an elven goddess inside her?"

"You've seen weirder shit," Hawke said flatly.

Dorian considered this a moment, shrugged, and continued to help Anders clean up.

"But wait," Anders said, leaning his free hand on the table, fingertips of the other rubbing his forehead. "If she's Mythal, then what does that mean as far as the Well is concerned. About you?"

"Yeah about that," Hawke coughed, looking down.

Anders was the only person who could even remotely intimidate Hawke, and Fenris saw it now. The sort of almost immature kicking of a boot against the ground, his crossed arms as he tried to delay the inevitable.

"Garrett."

"Oh, first name time," Dorian remarked.

Hawke glared at him before looking at Anders, almost sheepish. "She said she would try not to abuse it. But yes, she can… control what I do."

Anders scrubbed his face with his hands, dragging his fingers down his cheeks, then let out a sigh. "Nothing to change that now then, I guess." He sighed again. "So then what?"

"She said she'd help us fight Corypheus."

Dorian dried his hands off before reaching one out to Fenris. "That's good! Elven goddess to fight a would-be god."

Fenris went to him, pleased when Dorian kissed his forehead before wrapping an arm around his waist.

"She said we should go to a forest outside Skyhold. I think I know the one she means. Every now and again I get a voice in the back of my head. Pretty sure that's her," Hawke said. "Least, I hope it is."

"That's… convenient at the same time creepy," Dorian said. "Glad I didn't drink from that Well."

"We need to go out there. Maybe be prepared for a fight," Hawke said, "though it doesn't feel like we should be expecting one."

Anders started to pack a few potions into the pouch on his belt. "Doesn't hurt to be prepared. And we didn't overextend ourselves today."

" _You_ didn't," Dorian muttered. "Healing. Bah."

"You're getting better." Anders took the two staves from their spot on the wall, handing Dorian's his. "Just need a little more practice. I'll let you heal up Hawke next time he takes a hit."

"The flames you will," Hawke scowled.

Fenris smirked. "I'm sure Dorian is up for the task."

"A vote of confidence!" Dorian proclaimed.

Anders rolled his eyes. "I'll tell Dennet to get the horses ready."

-

The wood was a small copse of trees roughly two miles outside Skyhold, set high on a hilltop that appeared devoid of snow. They tied the horses to a broken log and ventured in, weapons at the ready. Though the trees grew in thick clusters close together, once they reached the middle, they found themselves in a very wide open field of grass. It was warmer here, the midday sun shining brightly in the sky. Fenris thought only the trees in the Arbor Wilds taller than these, and looked around.

"Nothing to speak of," he said, frowning.

Hawke, however, knelt down, placing his sword at his feet. "Shh."

"What is it?" Anders asked, concerned.

"She says that…" Hawke muttered quietly. "A power granted to me… Her thanks. A boon."

"I don't understand."

The wind kicked up, great gusts that rocked the trees, rustling the leaves, whipping through the clearing. Fenris turned, looking for an enemy, but saw none. Hawke cried out, and they were thrown off their feet as a black mist encircled him. It grew larger and taller, swirling like a tornado, and none of them could get close enough to Hawke to see if he was all right. Anders was panicking slightly now, and called his name.

Great ruby colored wings unfurled from the shadowy mist, onyx bones at their tips. Enormous and leathery, they unfolded, and in the place where Hawke knelt now stood a huge dragon, greater than Fenris had ever seen in the tapestries that lined Alexius's walls. Dorian backed away slowly, pulling Fenris with him as Anders took a staggering step forward. The dragon's eyes were as green as the treetops, and were more human than catlike, as a normal dragon's would be. Dark, blood-red scales covered the dragon's skin, a tough armor for a tougher beast. Front and back claws ended in the same black colored bone as its wings, giving it an altogether devilish look.

"Hawke?" Anders breathed. He jumped as the dragon lowered its head, and reached out.

The dragon inhaled, sniffed at Anders' hand, then nuzzled him very gently.

"Now I've seen everything," Dorian said, sounding pained and awed at the same time. "How in the Maker's name…"

"The power of Mythal," Fenris said, and his own voice was full of wonder.

Anders laughed as a forked tongue snaked out, licking his face.

"Eugh," Dorian said, then made a noise of interest. "You know, I wonder if-"

"Not the time to think about sex, Dorian," Fenris admonished.

"Hmph."

Anders thankfully hadn't heard. "Can you change back, though? Maker, you're gorgeous."

The dragon nosed him back out of the way. Another swirl of mist and Hawke changed back smoothly. He patted himself down in bewilderment, then looked up, the biggest grin Fenris had ever seen plastered his face.

"I," Hawke said, "am a fucking dragon."

Anders laughed, hugging him tightly, while Dorian clapped.

"Well done. Pretty damn impressive, considering you're not even a mage. Let's hope that's all we need to take down the other one."

"We need a plan," Anders said excitedly. "This… when she said she was going to help, I didn't think anything like this. But this is… you need to be careful."

"You're the one going toe to toe with Corypheus," Hawke said, arm around Anders' shoulders as they walked back through the trees. "We'll plan when Cullen and the others get back tomorrow. I'll test out my flight tonight. Make sure I have a handle on the mechanics."

"What did it feel like?" Fenris asked, curious.

Hawke thought. "I could hear you. See you. Smell you. But I couldn't talk. I was… big. Powerful. It felt like being on top of the tallest tower in the castle but with no fear of falling."

"If you can bring Corypheus's dragon down," Dorian said, "we can finish it off."

"Just need to find the bloody thing," Anders huffed.

"We will," Hawke promised. "Tonight, we rest. Tomorrow we make plans."

Satisfied with that for now, they returned to Skyhold.


	20. Chapter 20

"Are you worried?"

Hawke snorted. "What a question. Am I worried about what? That we all might die? Yes. But it's pointless to think about it. We killed the bastard once, we'll do it again."

Anders was lying on his shoulder, cuddled up against his side. It was early morning on the day the others were due back from the Arbor Wilds, and they'd spent the night making love. It was extremely different being here in this tower, with these lavish quarters. Anders had never had a place so opulent to call home. Except, perhaps, Hawke's estate in Hightown. And while he was glad for it, it never truly felt like home to him. Then again, home started becoming less about a bed and four walls – whether they were made of concrete, canvas or stone – and more about wherever Hawke was. He thought about his life before this, his life in the Circle and the Wardens, and how he always felt as if he were running away from something. And now in the Inquisiton, _leading_ the Inquisition, things couldn't be more different.

"And if one of us dies?"

"If you die, I won't be long after you," Hawke said easily.

Anders frowned. "Don't say that."

A strong hand came to rest in his hair, playing with the loose strands. "I don't want to live without you. Nothing you say will change my mind."

It was painful to think about. Would he want Hawke to live on after him? Yes. Absolutely. He would want him to be happy. But then, Hawke wasn't the one who'd been preparing for his own death for nearly six months before the destruction of the chantry. Night after night, Anders lay awake, thinking Hawke would gladly kill him for what he had to do. And every night since then, Anders found it difficult to believe that Hawke loved him that much to spare his life. But he said nothing, and learned to quietly accept it. Eventually that doubt faded into a tiny pinprick that reared its ugly head only occasionally, like now, and he was unable to stay quiet.

"You could leave. You don't have to-"

Hawke kissed him. No, he didn't just kiss him, he poured every bit of feeling of love and acceptance into that kiss. Years of being together and Anders still marveled at how patient Hawke could be. At how he took that self-doubt, all the conditioning Anders ever learned about how he was a mage, how no one could love him, and threw it casually out the window. Hawke loved him. Hawke would always love him. Even through his neuroses and his feeling that he would just never be good enough for someone like Hawke, for anyone really. He opened himself to Hawke, letting him take charge of the kiss, feeling the warm weight settle over him. He never used to like this, feeling pinned and helpless, but Hawke was different. Hawke made him feel safe.

"Mm," Hawke murmured, pulling back, nuzzling his cheek. "Better?"

"Yes," Anders whispered, still reeling a bit at how he easily he relaxed with Hawke's reassurance. "I'm just… terrified. What if I can't kill him?"

"We'll be there with you every step, love. Not just me. All of us. We're going to kill this bastard once and for all." He leaned up on an elbow and brushed away a few strands of hair from Anders' forehead before kissing it. "It's normal to be terrified."

"Is it? Because I feel positively paralyzed with fear."

"If you weren't afraid, I'd think there was something wrong."

"Were you ever afraid?"

"All the time," Hawke admitted. "Of losing family. Friends. Losing you."

Anders let out a breath. "I mean… were you ever afraid you couldn't do it? Whatever task you were set out to do."

"Of course. The Arishok? I'm surprised I wasn't pissing myself the whole time."

Anders laughed, recalling the fight vividly. Hawke ducking and dodging, taking blows from the Arishok. There was so much blood after that fight that they had to entirely re-carpet the throne room. He was scared, too. Terrified that he would lose Hawke after finally admitting his love for him. "Do you think we can win this fight?"

"Yes," Hawke said without hesitation. "Even if he's gained in power, so have we." He settled down, lying half on Anders, half off, head on his chest. His right hand slid down to entwine with the fingers of Anders' left. "You have a Mark given to you by the Maker."

"It was a mistake."

"Don't say that. You were there. You were kept safe one way or another. The Divine, or the Maker or who the fuck ever. The point is that you have it and Corypheus doesn't. Anders." He looked up at him. "I know we can do this."

Anders smiled. "And you can turn into a dragon."

Hawke grinned, resting his chin on Anders' chest. "A fucking dragon, Anders. Do you think Flemeth would let me keep the powers even after?"

"Oh Hawke. Leave it to you to prioritize."

But he felt better, knowing that Hawke would be with him, would stay with him, and they would see this through to the end.

-

Far below and some ways across the castle, Fenris was sweating, twisting in the sheets, locked in a nightmare that Dorian gently coaxed him out of. He opened his eyes, breathing heavily, looking around.

"Where-"

"Skyhold. With me. Are you all right?" Dorian cupped his cheek, kissing him softly. "Nightmare?"

Fenris nodded, letting Dorian help him sit up, accepted the glass of water. He sipped, then set the glass aside, pulling his knees up to his chest, resting his forehead on them. "I don't remember. It was… just black. And painful. Empty."

"Sounds terrifying," Dorian said, sitting next to him, arm around his shoulders. "Is it because of Corypheus?"

"I'm not sure," Fenris admitted. He pressed his chin to his knees, peering through the small, dark room. "I do not fear death. But that doesn't mean we should go in unprepared. Are we truly ready for this fight?"

"I think you're worrying too much."

Fenris swore quietly. "I think I'm worrying just enough."

"You've been through the Fade. Fenris you've fought dragons and demons and… Corypheus should be like crushing an ant to you. You're strong. And terribly brave. And disgustingly handsome, though I'm not sure how you'd use that to your advantage in this fight. I thought I should just remind you."

Fenris looked at him incredulously, then laughed. Dorian was ridiculous. But somehow that always made him feel better. As if joking about the end of the world made it less weighty. "And once Corypheus is dead?"

"Arrangements," Dorian said lightly. "I expect there will be a grand celebration and then it's about time we returned to Tevinter. We'll stay with Alexius for a few days or a few weeks and then I should return to my father."

Fenris frowned, tightening his hold on his legs. Being separated from Dorian even for a few short weeks while he went on assignment for the Inquisition was hard enough. To be separated even after their task was done? "I'm coming with you."

Dorian grinned against his cheek before kissing it. "I think I like this."

"Like what?"

"You being all demanding. You didn't even ask, you just stated."

"I only meant-"

"Shush, _Amatus_. I said I liked it." Dorian kissed his temple. "It suits you."

"Hm."

"You know," Dorian pressed. "Being aggressive. Forthwith. Taking what you want."

Fenris unfurled quickly, grabbing Dorian's wrists, and in a flash of practiced movement, pinned him to the bed, straddling him. Dorian laughed.

"Yes! Like that."

"I doubt your father would appreciate it," Fenris said carefully, gripping his wrists.

"Flames what my father thinks. He's not the one fucking me."

Fenris scoffed. "And the Archon?"

"Oh he's _certainly_ not going to fuck me."

Fenris tried to scowl, but ended up smirking. He leaned down and kissed Dorian, thrusting his tongue past his lips, swallowing the moan from his lover. They kissed for some time, Dorian struggling, trying to get Fenris to do more, but Fenris merely chuckled, pulling back.

"Very well. Tevinter. To Alexius's, then to your father's."

"Where I will scandalize everyone by introduce you as my lover. Now, I don't want to be made a liar, so I think we should practice the part where you ravish me. That way I can say with confidence that we're intimately involved."

Fenris could not argue with that.


	21. Chapter 21

They convened in the war room an hour after the others arrived back at Skyhold. Tired but victorious, they were relieved to see their Inquisitor intact. After a quick wash, what Fenris had come to know as the Inquisition's 'Inner Circle' was gathered around the war table, and he was pleased to be counted as a part of it. They were none the worse for wear, just exhausted. Fenris took his usual spot near the window next to Dorian, squeezing his hand before turning his attention to the impending discussion.

"Commander," Anders greeted, smiling to see Cullen in one piece.

"Inquisitor."

It was almost as if their titles were an inside joke to one another. But Cullen was talking again, describing the battle, what happened after they went through the eluvian.

"Corypheus and his dragon quit the field shortly after. Then it was just a matter of dealing with the soldiers that were left. Your report was vague about the mirror, though," Cullen prompted, tapping a stack of papers written in Anders' hand.

"There was an eluvian there," Anders confirmed. "It likely shattered when we passed through. Sad that something so old had to be destroyed, but…" He shook his head.

Fenris wondered if Anders would tell them everything they learned. The true history of what happened to Arlathan, what Abelas told them. He wondered what happened to Samson's body, and if Hawke would see to it that it was brought back for a proper pyre as he promised.

"And the Well?" Cassandra pressed. "And Hawke?"

Hawke nodded. "We discovered a lot inside that Temple. And we returned to the Fade with Morrigan."

There was an uncomfortable murmur through the group. Cole rocked back and forth from his perch on the windowsill, and Dorian reached his hand up quietly for him to cling to it. Fenris couldn't blame Cole one bit for his reaction. He hated the Fade, and he wasn't even a spirit.

"The elven goddess Mythal exists," Anders said plainly, to another smattering of uncomfortable whispers and shifting, particularly from Cassandra and Leliana, both of whom had very strong Andrastian faith. "Whether she's a goddess or a spirit…" He shrugged. "It doesn't matter. The point is that Corypheus's power of immortality stems from his dragon, and we have a way now to circumvent that with her help."

"I can turn into a dragon."

Fenris held back a laugh at the reactions, which were mostly disbelief. Iron Bull was looking at Hawke in interest, eyebrow raised high. Varric was scribbling something down on a sheet of parchment, while Cassandra looked dubious.

"A dragon."

Hawke smirked. "A dragon."

"Perhaps I can shed some light," Solas said, breaking into the mutterings of the others as they came to terms with this. "There existed an ancient Well, the vir'abelasan, into which servants of Mythal would pour their knowledge. Hawke partook of the Well, and now he can call upon her aid to guide us."

"Which, apparently includes turning into a dragon," Cassandra said in the same deadpan tone. "…Stranger things have happened, I suppose."

"Better to have this Mythal on our side than not, goddess or no," Cullen added. "If Corypheus was smart, he would slink back to the shadows. We crushed his forces in the Arbor Wilds. He likely spent so long trying to get into the temple that by the time he lost the mirror, he was of no use to them."

"He will be weak," Cassandra added. "He will want to rebuild his forces-"

Hawke rubbed his forehead. "No. He won't. He won't hide."

"How do you-" Cullen started.

"Mythal. She says he won't hide. If he was smart, he would. But he'll show himself soon."

"Better for us," Cassandra said. "If he does not bother to build up another army, we won't need to worry about fighting more red templars and Venatori."

"I agree," Cullen nodded, "especially since we haven't been able to find his base of operations yet. But his dragon – it must come and go from somewhere."

Josephine cleared her throat. "We could send word to our allies at Orzammar. Perhaps they would be willing to send envoys through the Deep Roads to look."

Anders shuddered visibly at the mention of the Deep Roads. "It's a good plan. And all we've got. Right now, our main focus should be scouting every corner of Thedas to find him. Even though he won't hide, it's better if we find him before he finds us. If we-"

He cut off abruptly, jerking away from the table as if he'd been hit by an arrow. Hawke grabbed his arm, worried, and Anders held up his left hand. The Anchor was glowing, crackling with its strange, vibrant green energy. A second later they all felt it. The air grew heavy as it often did when magic was prevalent. Fenris felt it in his markings which lit with their silver energy. He heard Dorian's intake of breath, the warm fingers around his wrist. For one split second, everything was silent, then a sickly green light filled the war room, filtering through the large glass windows. Heads turned, but they already knew what it was.

"He's attempting to reopen the Breach," Anders said, eyes wide as he looked up. His expression changed from shock to determination as he closed his fist around the Anchor's magic. "Well. At least we know where he is now."

"Then we take the fight to him," Hawke said.

He and Anders exchanged a knowing look. This was it. This was what everything had been leading up to.

"We have no forces," Cullen said. "The men we brought back from the Wilds, it's not the army. They're still several days' march behind."

"Corypheus knows that," Anders said. "That's why he's doing this now. I have to go."

"Not alone," Cassandra said, her stony gaze fixed on him. Her tone was clear: she was going with.

Anders nodded. "Solas. Dorian. Fenris. With us. You were there at the temple, you know what he's capable of. Cassandra, Blackwall, if he brought any forces with him, any at all, I want you there. Defend our people. Sera, Varric – when that dragon comes in, we'll need ranged attacks. Bull-"

"Yeah, boss, I got you."

Anders smirked. "Hawke will bring down the dragon. No matter what, you get there first. You get the killing blow, you get first pick of whatever useful materials comes out of it."

Bull grinned, muscles flexing. "I love this job."

"Cullen," Anders continued, "make sure Skyhold remains strong. Keep the ones who can't fight safe in case the battle turns this way. Fortify this place. We'll need somewhere to return to once this is all over."

"And a place to celebrate, once you win," Josephine said confidently, causing Anders to smile.

Fenris felt the tension in the room, saw the worried looks on everyone's faces. He looked at Dorian, who was a bit pale, but his jaw was set. He would stand by Anders, as would Fenris. They'd all been through too much not to see this to the end, and the end was right outside, ready and waiting for them.

"Do you think yourself ready for this, Inquisitor?" Morrigan finally spoke up.

Anders swallowed, gripping his staff, the relief of Andraste gleaming in the green glow of the room. "Only one way to find out." He stood tall, back straight, and glanced around the room. "I want everyone in here to know how grateful the Inquisition is. How grateful _I_ am with everything you've done. Fight well. Fight hard. And thank you."

"We're with you, boss," Bull said, and there was a rippling murmur of agreement.

Fenris took Dorian's hand, squeezing. He was ready. They would fight and win together, or the world would be destroyed.

No pressure.


	22. Chapter 22

Fenris wasn't sure about the prospects of arriving in the Valley of Sacred Ashes on a dragon, even if that dragon happened to be Hawke. Anders and Solas were with them, Cassandra, Bull, and Blackwall in his claws. And Dorian sat behind him, clinging to his middle, muttering about heights and how one was not meant to ride on a dragon into battle, no matter how heroic it sounded. Fenris promised him that he wouldn't let Hawke drop him. At least not on purpose. The others would ride down the mountain on Dennet's fastest mounts. Hawke landed a few hundred yards away from what was left of the temple and they disembarked, windswept but unharmed. Hawke nudged Anders.

"I'll be fine," Anders assured him.

Hawke transformed back, a much quicker process now that he'd gotten the hang of it, and grabbed Anders by the collar of his coat, crushing their lips together.

"Don't you dare fucking die," Hawke breathed, forehead pressed against Anders'.

Anders nodded, gripping his hands. "And you. I'll see you when this is all over. I love you."

"Not as much as I love you," Hawke grinned.

They kissed again before Hawke moved away to transform once more, and flew off in hopes of finding Corypheus's dragon before it found them. Anders looked at them, gesturing to Cassandra.

"Think you can handle these two? When that dragon falls, I want you all on it as quickly as possible."

"Oh she can handle us, don't worry about that," Bull said.

Cassandra smirked. "We'll take care of things here, Inquisitor. Go."

Anders looked to Blackwall. "Stay safe."

Blackwall nodded. "You as well."

"Maker go with you," Cassandra said, unsheathing her sword before she led the other two down the path.

Anders took a breath. "Let's hope He is," he muttered.

Fenris walked level with Dorian, Solas slightly behind them as they moved into the ruins of the temple. He felt sick and anxious, but prepared. It seemed like his former life, the life of a slave, of a servant, was fully behind him now. No one could say that he wasn't worthy of Dorian, that all he was good for was playing bodyguard or fetching wine. If they lived through this and Dorian ascended as the Archon's heir, he would remind all of Tevinter what he'd done to save them, and to save the world. No one could look at Dorian and say that he was keeping an elf for his whore. They would have to accept them both.

And of course, the prospect of living without Dorian was simply unacceptable.

He removed his sword from its sheath and followed them determinedly through the ruins. He felt the magic in the air, not just the barriers and spells that surrounded him, but energy so thick, like the feeling before a thunderstorm. The ground shook beneath their feet, and at first he thought it might be demons, surging forth from the Breach.

"What in the-" Dorian voiced their confusion.

The shaking intensified, throwing them off balance. The earth cracked open and Fenris lost his footing, Dorian grabbing his wrist and pulling him up as the ground below him gave way. Fenris cried out, one hand holding his sword, the other in Dorian's slipping grasp. Beneath him, nothing but open sky as the chunk of rock they were standing on started to ascend rapidly into the sky. 

"Little help!" Dorian shouted, nearly losing his grip.

Solas dropped to his knees, grabbed the back of Fenris's tunic, and pulled hard. Fenris scrabbled to find purchase with his feet, leather boots scraping against the rock, and he managed to haul himself onto the floating island, panting with the effort.

"All right?" Anders asked the three of them, helping Fenris to his feet. "Corypheus is ahead. I suppose he wanted to make this as difficult as possible."

"Well he's performing admirably in that respect," Dorian agreed.

They hurried on, half-climbing half-running through the ruins of the temple, the ground beneath them wildly unstable. Anders reached an archway first, diving forward as a blast of red, crackling electricity hit the spot where they stood, forcing them to scatter. Fenris felt the barrier around him strengthen, and he turned his sword in his hand. Corypheus stood some hundred feet ahead, atop a crumbling wall. Tall and twisted, like an abomination, with long claws and foul magic. He truly was an amalgamation of all that was evil. And Fenris would see him destroyed.

The only blade between Corypheus and the mages, Fenris ran forward to draw his fire, trusting Anders, trusting Dorian and Solas to keep him safe. A blast of magic, red hot fire, and black smoke crashed against the shield that caused his skin to shimmer and kept him safe. He swung his sword, forcing Corypheus back, and dodged a blow, ducking under his arm and he swung again. His blade caught cloak or cape or some kind of fabric and it tore. Not good enough. He phased, and suddenly he was snapped back into his physical form by force.

Corypheus laughed. "You think your lyrium is good enough to defeat me? Where is your master, little wolf? Run back to him with your tail between your legs like a good slave."

Hatred burned inside him like a fire. But Fenris carefully metered his steps, waiting until Dorian threw a fireball to distract Corypheus before taking his next swing. He landed a blow on the twisted, outstretched arm. Black, viscous ichor oozed from the wound like a darkspawn's blood. Fenris ran toward a broken down half-wall and launched himself away from it, driving his sword through Corypheus's back. A blast of magical energy caught him from the front, and Fenris lost his grip on his sword and fell hard to the ground. Corypheus cried out, reached behind him, and wrenched the sword from his flesh. He turned to Fenris, eyes blazing, and snapped the silverite blade in two.

Fenris rolled out of the way as Corypheus let loose a barrage of electricity. It struck the spot where he'd been, barely missing him. He broke into a sweat as Dorian unleashed another fireball on Corypheus. The area surrounding them erupted into flame, and Fenris gained his feet, yanking his daggers from his belt. The sword - _his_ sword - was in pieces now, and Corypheus would pay for that, along with everything else. He was about to leap forward again to find an opening when an unnatural screeching drew their attention toward the now black sky.

"Did you think you could stop me?" Corypheus laughed.

His dragon landed on a crumbling tower and let out another earth-shattering scream. It leapt, and in that moment it looked as if it would devour Anders with its razor-like teeth. From out of nowhere, a hulking red dragon caught it around the middle, answering with its own deep, victorious roar. Fenris felt the gust of wind from two sets of wings, and took the opportunity of Corypheus's distraction to plunge one of his daggers into his thigh.

Corypheus bellowed in pain and jerked away, and Fenris hopped back, aided by another haste spell. He ducked and dodged the flailing arms, ignoring Corypheus's taunts, feeling the magic push and pull at his skin. He phased into his ghost-like form, and Corypheus was unable to counter. Another spell, ice this time perhaps from Solas, incased Corypheus briefly before he shattered it. Fenris turned away, catching a bit of the blast on his back, and felt it tear his tunic. Bruised and bloody, but nothing broken, he was still able to dance, to avoid the jets of magic being flung from Corypheus's claws.

"It ends here, 'Herald'!"

"Damn right it does!" Anders called back.

"Your spirit won't be able to stop me this time!"

Anders answered by thrusting his left palm forward, the green swirling energy from the Anchor pulling at Corypheus, forcing him to his knees. Fenris took his chance and raced forward, daggers raised. A clawed hand flung out suddenly, and a bolt of black lightning caught him square in the chest. He flew several yards before landing hard, the wind knocked from his lungs. The panic he felt passed in a moment, and he allowed himself a second's respite, watching as two large dragons grappled in the sky. Somewhere closer, Dorian screamed his name.

He kicked up to his feet, twirling his daggers, breath coming back in a rush. Dorian and Solas cast so quickly that they were blurs of light and sound, each hit either landing or bouncing off the shields that Corypheus erected. With an anguished cry, Corypheus leapt backward, further up the ruins. Anders called to Fenris and tossed him a vial, which Fenris caught one-handed. Elfroot. He pulled the cork with his teeth, downing it as he followed the other three up a set of broken staircases, twisting and winding further upward. Though his wounds didn't heal, the paid faded.

Corypheus's voice echoed among the ruins, among the cacophony of shifting rock, the dragons fighting overhead. "You will fall as a warning to those who oppose my divine will!"

They gained the landing, and the ground erupted in a wave of demons.

"Watch it!" Dorian yelled, flinging a barrier of flame up in front of them.

Fenris could not leap the fire, and while it deterred the shades, the rage demons simply glided through it. He shifted into his spirit form though he knew he could not keep it up for long, already flagging a bit with fatigue, and exploded one of the demons from the inside out. Anders caught one in an icy cage, and Fenris swung hard with his daggers. Though not silverite, their metal was strong, and shattered the ice and the demon. Dorian caught a third in a binding prison, purple-white electricity holding it in place as it howled in anguish, deep and guttural. Dorian pressed his palms together, a black mass between them, then wrenched them apart, the prison mimicking his movements and tearing the rage demon into pieces. Flecks of molten lava sizzled along the ground.

A crash echoed in the distance, a cry of pain from one of the dragons, but Fenris couldn't spare a second to look to see if it was Hawke or the other. He trusted Hawke to take it down, and the others to destroy it. But what if they couldn't? No. He shoved away the doubt as the flames fizzled, and he was able to race forward to engage one of the shades. Sinking his dagger into its oily leather hide, he dragged it upward and it exploded in a shower of slithering shadows. Claws raked across his thigh and he felt the stinging pain as another shade oozed from the ground. He spun, kicking it hard in what passed for its face, the glowing single eye winking out. It flailed and another bolt of magical energy from one of the mages ended its existence.

"Do you remember this, Herald?" Corypheus called mockingly.

Huge stalagmites shot up from the ground. Fenris dodged around them, but was unable to see now, the rocks towering over his head.

"Watch the rocks!" Anders shouted.

Fenris saw it. Twisted around the spires of stalagmites like sizzling barbed wire were curls of snapping blue-white electricity. He heard Corypheus's laughter, and tried to dodge, leaping away as the magic licked at his skin, burning him.

"I cannot see Fenris!" Solas shouted.

The high ground. He needed to get to the high ground, to fight from a better position, or at least a position where the mages could see him and shield him. He twisted left and right, trying to find his way through the maze, swearing when he was forced to go another way, hissing in pain when another tongue of electricity flicked out, this time across his back.

"The Breach is getting bigger!" came Anders' panicked warning.

Fenris finally broke from the rocks, suffering multiple burns and lesions on his back and arms. He sheathed his daggers and started to scale a crumbling tower. Someone shouted his name and immediately he felt the familiar shimmering of a magical shield over his skin. A rejuvenation spell hit him next, and he climbed faster. Corypheus was visible on a broken balcony just a few feet away. He hauled himself up into the tower, gained his footing, and quickly surveyed his vantage point. The gap between the tower and the balcony was not insurmountable. If he missed the jump, he would suffer badly. Broken bones or perhaps death if he landed wrong. But if he made it, he could subdue Corypheus long enough for the mages to navigate the maze and pull even.

Taking a breath, he removed his daggers and backed up to the far wall to give himself enough space. He sprinted toward the edge of the decrepit tower, flinging himself forward at the last second. Corypheus did not see him until it was too late. Focused on Anders, taunting him, he didn't turn in time, and Fenris sank his daggers into Corypheus's twisted flesh. One sunk into his shoulder, the other striking true in his chest. The momentum carried them both forward, and they plummeted off the balcony, landing with a crash to the ground on the opposite side. Luckily the fall was not far, but the impact jarred Fenris's grip and he rolled across the stone, skidding before slamming into a wall. Bleeding now from his multiple wounds, dizzy, he looked up.

Corypheus slowly got to his feet, also bleeding, his magical energy waning. He staggered, yanking the daggers from his body and tossed them aside. He looked around wildly before his eyes fell on Fenris, lip curling in anger and disgust as he stepped forward.

"Impudent mortal. Slave. Foolish boy."

He'd been called worse by Danarius and others, but the words rang in his ears. "I am not a slave," he whispered. His markings flared. "I AM NOT A SLAVE!"

Corypheus laughed but it was cut short, a blast of ice racing across the ground, knocking him off his feet. Anders stood framed in the doorway, Dorian and Solas just behind him on either side. Fenris felt flooding relief as Solas and Anders moved to engage Corypheus before he could get to his feet again. Dorian hurried to his side.

"Hold still, this'll hurt."

Fenris cried out as Dorian's inexpert healing magic coursed through his body, causing his limbs to jerk, his markings brighter than moonlight as they flashed. He thought he blacked out, and a potion for the pain was pressed to his lips. He swallowed gratefully. Wounds healed, pain slowly fading, Dorian pulled him to his feet.

They weren't out of this yet.


	23. Chapter 23

Fenris grabbed his daggers and rejoined the fray, summersaulting under a wave of white-red magical electricity. Corypheus shouted again, but Fenris couldn't hear over the cracking of thunder, the lightning that shot from the sky. A crimson orb, wreathed in black smoke and fire levitated from one clawed hand, coming to rest some thirty feet in the air above them. The Breach in the sky, green and shimmering, flickered with unrest. Fenris felt the air shift, a sickly stench permeating his senses. He could smell blood and fire and ash. Rain began to pour, acidic and stinging until another barrier covered him from the pain, but not the moisture.

He slicked his hair back, eyes on Corypheus once more. A haste spell enveloped him, and he sprinted forward, a blur of white, slashing once, twice, and again with his blades. Corypheus tried to stop him, tried to block, but Fenris was faster, bolstered by the spells. A static blue prison enveloped him, slowing him down, making Fenris's movements even swifter. Corypheus fell to a knee, chanting in ancient Tevene. The orb sputtered, seemingly out of energy, then sucked all the magic from the area, removing barriers and support spells, the ice that Anders flung and the fire that Dorian heaved. Fenris felt sharp stabbing pains as the orb pulled at his brands, and he fell to his knees, overwhelmed and finally spent.

Anders slammed his staff to the ground, radiating energy flowing in concentric circles like ripples in a pond. The power increased with every wave and Fenris felt it thrumming in his core. Corypheus tried to climb to his feet, only to be blasted back by a combination of fire and electricity from Dorian and Solas. Corypheus's power was fading, he was covered in several dozen dagger slashes, all of them oozing inky black blood. His skin was burnt and charred, eyes glowing red now as he reached up toward the heavens. Anders lifted his palm, the green light from the Anchor shooting out, slamming into the orb, forcing it out of the air. Corypheus grabbed for it, the orb jerking erratically in his hands.

"No, stand back," Solas said, throwing a hand out as Dorian stepped forward, staff raised.

The twisting green magic from Anders' hand latched onto the orb as Corypheus clutched it, crying out.

"No! Not like this!" he bellowed.

Anders' eyes flashed blue, magic twisting around him in a maelstrom of pure power. Fenris's brandings flared brightly, and Dorian pulled him to his feet, away from Anders. He cut an imposing figure, an aura of a great Fade spirit warrior flickering over his form. Fenris saw at once his power manifested, the spirit inside him. He could _feel_ the pull of the Fade, the power radiating from Anders as he moved forward toward Corypheus, who knelt before him, weak and growing weaker.

"I have walked the halls of the Golden City," Corypheus gasped, upper body jerking with the effort to hold onto the orb as Anders drained the power from it. "I have crossed the ages… Dumat! Ancient ones! I beseech you!"

Like cracking a whip, Anders yanked back, ripping the orb from Corypheus's hand with the connection of the Anchor. It hovered against his palm as he towered over Corypheus in both height and power. Corypheus fell forward, clawed hands grasping at the rubble beneath him. Anders pointed the orb instinctively toward the Breach, which swirled madly in the tempest-tossed sky. Fenris and Dorian turned away, shielding their eyes against the blast of magic that filled the area, as bright as the midday sun. Fenris squinted, watching as the aura that was Justice stepped away from Anders. No, not away from, but _out of_ him.

Fenris felt the wind whipping his clothing and hair as a whirlwind of power kicked up around them. Corypheus's features twisted and pulled, pieces of rubble, remains of the temple, were all sucked upward toward the Breach. The orb dropped to the ground with a soft thud, black and dull, whatever powers it held gone now. Fenris watched, gripping Dorian's arm, and felt Dorian's own fingers biting into his bicep as the now broken form of Corypheus lifted from the ruins. Justice, with one last look at Anders, allowed himself to be pulled with.

The ground shifted, the rock fell from the sky. Fenris lost his feet, Dorian falling with him as they clung to one another. Around them, the temple ruins that Corypheus pulled into the air came crashing down. Fenris heard Anders and Solas grunt as they fell over, and suddenly it all stopped. The sounds of pebbles settling, the smell of smoke, but the sky clear now. The Breach was sealed once more, for good this time. Fenris, breathing hard, lay still for a moment, looking up at the empty sky, the afternoon sun fading gently into twilight. Dorian groaned and rolled over onto his back, his fingers finding Fenris's. He held on tight.

"The world's still spinning."

Fenris took a breath. "The earth moved."

Dorian looked over at him, sweaty, dirty, covered in bruises and blood, and laughed. "Was it as good for you as it was for me?"

Fenris couldn't help the bubble of laughter that fought its way up from his chest. Too relieved to care about anything, he let himself enjoy it, stopping only when Dorian rolled on top of him, kissing him deeply. He was alive. Dorian was alive. He gripped Dorian's robes, gauntlets gripping tightly, one leg hooking around Dorian's ankle, holding him down, feeling him. Dorian broke the kiss, smiling at him.

"It's over."

Fenris smiled. Tired and sore, and overwhelmed. He released Dorian and accepted the hand up, getting gingerly to his feet. Anders and Solas were some feet away, talking quietly, Solas kneeling down. Fenris started toward them when a voice rang out from behind.

"Inquisitor?"

It was Cassandra. Anders joined them shortly, looking Fenris and Dorian over, making sure they were okay before approaching her. She gestured some ways down the path, and limping slightly, Fenris followed, leaning heavily on Dorian. Hawke sat on a broken bit of stone that might have been a wall. His armor was gone, tunic slashed and torn, bloodstains across his chest and legs. He looked up, one eye swollen shut and bruised. Anders knelt in front of him, took his hand, and kissed his knuckles.

"You did it," Hawke managed.

Anders looked close to tears, but leaned up and kissed him softly, a blue glow emanating from his palm as he healed him.

"It's truly over then," Cassandra said, looking up, then back to Anders. "You did it. You saved us."

"I just… did what needed to be done."

"A true hero," Blackwall said, carrying his own minor injuries from the fight.

Fenris saw Anders duck his head slightly, blushing at the compliments.

"We should return to Skyhold," Cassandra said, touching Anders' shoulder. "To come out of this alive… It is a miracle."

Hawke cupped Anders' face. "Love?"

Tears flowed freely down Anders' cheeks, and Fenris frowned. What was it? Overwhelming emotion? To fight so long and so hard for something, he thought he understood. But tears of joy or sadness?

"He's gone. Justice is gone. He said… He told me he would return to the Fade," Anders whispered, though it was quiet enough that they could all hear him, and feel the sorrow in his voice as he spoke. "He went home."

Hawke sank gingerly to his knees and gathered Anders into his arms, holding him close, and let him cry. Cassandra turned to those gathered and waved them away.

"Go. Back to Skyhold where we can regroup."

Dorian pulled on Fenris's arm. "Come on," he said quietly. "Let's give them their privacy."

With one last concerned look back, Fenris followed Dorian out of the valley.


	24. Chapter 24

They returned to Skyhold late in the evening, too exhausted for much more than a quick wash before needing to sleep. The next day was a flurry of activity, Josephine organizing a brilliant party for that night. The celebration however, would likely stretch through the week. Emotions were running high, and Fenris heard the drinking in the tavern going strong by midday, the door flung wide, joyful songs filtering across the yard. In the morning, they received a knock on their door – an excited Dagna handed him his sword, expertly repaired. She waved off his profuse thanks, making him promise to save her a dance at the party that night. Relieved, Fenris promised he would give her three dances. After making sure the sword was still operable, he and Dorian spent the rest of the morning in bed, enjoying their own pre-celebration before the fete that evening. They chased away the previous day's soreness to replace it with all new, but very welcome aches.

"I love you," Dorian whispered, laying over top him.

Fenris grinned despite himself, running his fingertips along Dorian's spine. "I love you, too. Are we going home soon?"

"Mm. Yes," he said, kissing the tip of Fenris's nose. "Once we settle a few things here. I'd like to say some proper good-byes. I would say next week at the earliest, end of the month at the latest."

Fenris nodded. He'd waited this long to return. Another week or even longer wouldn't matter. He missed Felix and Alexius, but he was happy with Dorian. He stretched and wriggled. "Off. I want to see Solas before the party starts."

"I didn't see him last night, did you?" Dorian asked, rolling over.

Fenris sat up. "No, I didn't. But I wasn't paying attention."

"Hm, nor I. It was mostly, 'Is this real? Are we alive? Did we win? I can't believe we won' and other such thoughts."

"Oh?" Fenris asked, getting out of bed. He smirked as Dorian's eyes fell as they often did to his backside. He leaned over and picked up his leather leggings before turning around. He grinned at the appreciative look he was getting. "And here I thought it was, 'I can't wait to get back to Skyhold so I can have sex.'"

"I was too tired for that," Dorian admitted. "But the morning was pleasant."

Fenris chuckled. "Too tired? That's a first."

"Give me a break," Dorian whined, rolling to his stomach. "I fought an ancient archdemon magister monster thing _and_ lived!" He reached for Fenris, who was tugging on a shirt now.

Fenris allowed Dorian to pull him close, running his fingers through his lover's hair as Dorian nuzzled his thigh. "And we're all so very proud of you," he teased.

"Well I had help," Dorian said, muffled. "I suppose I should get up too."

"Not unless you want to."

There were many duties to attend to, but Cullen, Leliana, and Josephine delegated appropriately. Members of the Inquisition's Inner Circle, who had all done their parts in the fighting, were given no orders and no requests. They were all headed toward a very much needed and very well-deserved break.

Fenris leaned down to cup Dorian's chin and kissed him possessively, tongue sweeping inside his mouth, pleased when Dorian groaned. "I will be back. Otherwise I'll see you this evening if you've other things to do."

"Mm. After a few more minutes of lounging. I have a feeling this will be the last true break I'll ever get. Did you see the letter that came the other day?"

"Letter?"

Dorian nodded to the desk.

Fenris looked. Their desk was covered in piles of paper. Dorian's habit of being a packrat combined with a cavalier nature toward clutter made it difficult to find any new correspondence, but he found the envelope he was talking about and flicked the letter open. His lips moved as he tried to read the words, sounding them out.

"Pleased to inform you that Archon Radonis has assept…"

"Accepted," Dorian corrected, sitting up, the covers falling to his waist.

"Accepted you for study and is happy to con-sid-er you for the pozinton…"

"Position," Dorian said patiently, but he was grinning.

"Position of his heir." Fenris let his arm drop, and was sure the expression on his face registered the dumbfounded feeling he got from what he'd just read. "Does this mean-"

Dorian nodded. "Exactly what it says. There's a bit more but it's all official legal nonsense. Once I return, I'm to report to his estate to discuss the particulars. I have a feeling we're going to be there for at least a week or two."

"We?"

Dorian reached out for his hand, which Fenris took. "We. You and I. Unless… you would prefer to stay with Alexius while I go."

Fenris contemplated. There were so many possibilities. So many reasons to go and so many to stay. "I… will consider it." Perhaps he would talk to Felix first. He was logical, and removed from the situation. He would have good advice. Fenris bent low and kissed Dorian's knuckles, then his forehead. "We'll talk on the way home. For tonight, celebration." He kissed him again, thoroughly. "I am proud of you," he whispered against his lips, kissing him again before finally letting him go. "I'll see you tonight."

Dorian flopped back to the bed with a happy sigh, grinning. "Ooh! See if Josephine ordered those little cakes!"

Fenris smirked, waving as he left, and shut the door. He adjusted his cloak against the chilly wind and walked the path to the tower, dodging the servants who were setting up for the party that night. Inside the tower, the desk was as Solas had last left it, but he was absent from his usual spot. With a frown, Fenris crossed to the desk, lightly touching the contents, and saw a package with a letter that had his name on it. Confused, he took the letter first and unfolded it.

_Fenris,_

_By the time you read this letter, I will have left the Inquisition. I enjoyed our time together, and I am glad to have met you. You probably realize I don't say that about many people._

_I am sorry for my abrupt departure. Just know that there would not have been any way to change my mind, and I had no wish to prolong any farewells._

_You are truly a special person, da'mi. I wish you a long and happy life, and Dorian as well. He will need someone like you to guide him on his path. But do not forget that you must follow your own as well._

_Falon'na,_

_Solas_

_P.S. Enjoy the gift._

Fenris felt an ache in his chest as he slowly finished the letter. Solas left. But why? He took the package and unwrapped it, a bone falling into his hand. He recognized it at once as the jawbone of a wolf that Solas wore around his neck. He'd asked about it once and Solas's simple reply was that he liked it. But it must have meant more to him than that to gift it to him. He separated the leather cord and tied it around his neck, letting it hang against chest. Regardless of where Solas was now, it was nice to have a piece of him, and Fenris realized he would miss Skyhold as much as he missed Alexius's estate. Ironic, he thought, that a slave with no home would eventually come to have two of them.

"Fenris?"

Fenris turned. Hawke stood in the doorway, looking better than he had yesterday. He was out of his usual armor, dressed casually in anticipation of the celebration.

"How are you feeling?" Fenris asked.

"All patched up. Anders works miracles. You?"

"I…" Fenris frowned, leaning against the desk. He touched the jawbone, thinking. "I don't know."

"I know what you mean," Hawke said, stepping into the room. He idly shifted a few papers on Solas's desk. "Anders came looking for him earlier."

"He's gone. Left me a letter," Fenris said, brow furrowed. "I feel…"

Hawke gripped his shoulder, squeezing just shy of painful. "After we left Kirkwall it was the same. You feel kind of lost?"

Fenris nodded. It seemed an odd thing to say. The plan was always to return to Tevinter, but after so much time here, he knew he would miss it. The whole affair was bittersweet. "It's still surreal that we won."

"Ah, well," Hawke said, releasing his shoulder. "There's more to do anyway. Venatori to track down, red templars still running about. But no leader, they'll scatter." He paused. "You sure you want to go back? You can stay here."

Fenris shook his head. "I have to-"

"Go with Dorian, yeah." Hawke snorted. "Still don't know what you see in him."

"It's the hair."

Hawke laughed. "Right, right. Well. I don't know how it all works up north. You know. Being with him when he's on his way to becoming His Grand Arrogance or whatever." He waved a dismissive hand, as if Tevinter politics were beneath him. "But if it doesn't work out, you know. You're uh. Both welcome here."

"Both?" Fenris raised an eyebrow.

Hawke shrugged. "I guess he's not so bad. Don't tell him I said that."

"Wouldn't dream of it," Fenris agreed, though he was pleased. "And you and Anders? How is he after…?"

"I'd say ask him yourself but _I_ can barely find a minute alone with him now. He's… yeah, he's good. Justice left, I guess. Somehow."

"I saw it," Fenris said. "It looked like the spirit left willingly."

"Maybe being so close to the Breach…" Hawke shrugged. "Who knows? Magical theory?" He rapped his knuckles on one of Solas's books. "That was his bag, not mine. Thing is though… Justice? He cleaned house. I mean, he took the nightmares and everything with him. No more spirit, no more Grey Warden taint. He's still got his… ah. Well. What I'm saying is that he's still Anders. Memories and quirks and fears and everything. But the bad shit's gone."

Fenris's eyes widened in surprise. "Can that happen?"

Hawke shrugged. "Fiona? She was a Warden. She said she didn't know how it happened either but she doesn't have the Warden taint. So I guess it's been known to happen. I just… wish I could've thanked the bastard."

"Justice."

"He never liked me. Said I was a distraction."

Fenris laughed lightly at the annoyed expression on Hawke's face. "Well… spirits have a way of knowing, I think. You could talk to Cole."

"Yeah, I might. You coming to the celebration? Josephine's tearing her hair out trying to make it perfect."

"I've been sent to ask after tiny cakes. I believe Dorian would be disappointed otherwise."

"Ah yes," Hawke said. "What's a party without tiny cakes?" He winked. "I'll see you tonight, then." He flicked the jawbone around Fenris's neck. "Looks good on you. Should keep it."

Fenris smiled and watched him leave. He would miss Hawke. He would miss Skyhold and most of the inhabitants. However, he knew he would write them, and he knew he would always be welcomed back. That thought in mind, he took one last look at the colorful frescos on the walls, and left the tower.


	25. Epilogue

Fenris stood tall and proud, glass of wine in hand, freshly tailored suit depicting him as an honored guest of the Alexius household during Felix's wedding. His golden tunic was form fitting, and the blood-colored jacket accented it well, cut just above his knee. With the sleeves rolled up, he showed off his lyrium lines which Dorian had lovingly seen to just a few nights previous. Dark black trousers and boots with gold buckles completed the outfit, which likely cost more than his entire wardrobe combined.

_"You're worth it."_

He remembered Dorian's words as he presented him with the gift, and Fenris took it, feeling overwhelmed. Five months since their return, and he still hadn't quite come to terms with everything. It was unanimously decided that Dorian and Fenris would remain in the Alexius household in Minrathous, at least for a little while. Dorian's mother refused to acknowledge his presence, but Halward greeted him cautiously, shaking his hand. Fenris remained as cordial as he could, and he was introduced to other magisters and their families as Dorian's "consort" and a hero of the war against the Elder One. He knew there were many rumors surrounding their personal lives, but the Pavus name commanded respect. The phrase, "War makes strange bedfellows – literally!" circulated the tabloids, and Dorian seemed to delight in all of them, but lamented the horrible ink and paper sketches of himself.

Dorian spent much of his days training to become the Archon's heir. Between that and wedding planning, he and Fenris hadn't found much time for one another during the day, but the evenings were always theirs. Fenris spent his own days training others: Alexius took on two new apprentices, young and impressionable, and they delighted in hearing about his tales of the Inquisition. That they were Altus sons of influential magisters, yet still proud to be part of a family where a Liberati elf was considered an equal, gave Fenris hope for the future of the slave class.

Then, during the Wintersend celebration, something happened that Fenris didn't think would ever occur in his wildest dreams. Alexius presented him with new identification papers. While it would take more time and possibly new laws written into place for Fenris to ascend to the Soporati class, there was no law stating that Alexius could not officially adopt Fenris as his kin. Though Felix would always be Alexius's heir, Fenris was now his legally his son. He wept, and Alexius embraced him happily.

"Quite the family, aren't we?" Dorian asked, having made yet another round through the wedding party. He took Fenris by the waist and leaned down, kissing him as deeply as propriety allowed for in public.

"I suppose we are," Fenris smirked. He looked over to Alexius, who had his arm wrapped around Fiona's slim waist. "He's happy."

"Fiona is an insanely talented mage," Dorian said with a shrug. "She can give Alexius a run for his money. Taught me a thing or two."

Fenris smirked. "And Felix. He'll have an elven stepmother and brother."

"It'll make him a damn sight more interesting at least," Dorian noted, taking Fenris's wine glass and sipping thoughtfully. "I do wonder if Alexius will propose soon. I would so love to plan another one of these."

"Perhaps you missed your true calling," Fenris said, taking the wine glass back. "Best tell Radonis you'd like to resign now to become a wedding planner."

Dorian scowled, but grinned immediately after. "And what do you think ours should look like?"

Fenris choked on the sip of wine and coughed, wiping his lips with the handkerchief Dorian offered him. "Ours?"

"Well yes. I would _hope_ you'd want to make an honest man out of me and all that." He winked at Fenris. "Going to steal my virtue and not even own up to it?"

Fenris laughed incredulously. "The things you say."

"Mm." Dorian nuzzled his cheek and took the glass back, draining in one long swallow. "I like emeralds and diamonds, I think. The shinier the better."

"I'll consider it."

"We would set tongues wagging. Not that they already aren't," Dorian conceded. "But if we were to do it before Alexius and Fiona, we could say we started the trend!"

Fenris shook his head, but he was smiling. It was too hard not to. Dorian, however powerful and influential and talented, would always be Dorian. And that was reassuring. "Could we invite Hawke and Anders?" he asked.

"The Inquisitor is always welcome."

"And Hawke?"

Dorian sighed. "I suppose we can make it a plus one."

"Speaking of," Fenris added.

The crier at the door unfurled his scroll. "Crassius Servis and his plus one, Livius Erimond."

Dorian shook his head. "Maker, I'm going to need more wine."

"They couldn't stay locked up forever," Fenris noted, keeping a level eye on both men. "And they have paid their debts."

Neither man regained their titles, but were allowed their land holdings once Anders pardoned them. He appealed to the Archon, and came to a mutual agreement that they would continue in a research capacity for the Inquisition, so long as it and Tevinter remained allies. And that, they all hoped, would last a very long time.

"I think I need to go save Livia's feet from Felix's horrid dancing," Dorian said, kissing his cheek. "Excuse me."

Fenris watched as Dorian cut in, and Felix was happy to relinquish his bride's hand to his best friend. He took up two glasses of champagne and approached Fenris, handing him one.

"Congratulations again," Fenris said, clinking his glass to Felix's. "How does it feel?"

Felix's grin hadn't faded the whole night. He watched, a proud husband, as Dorian carried Livia expertly across the dance floor. "Amazing. I am truly a lucky man to have found her. And you?"

Fenris realized he'd been looking at Dorian with much the same expression that Felix had for his wife. "I… yes. I am lucky. More than most."

"I'd say Dorian was the lucky one."

Heat rose in his cheeks, and Fenris sipped to hide the blush. "I do not believe the Imperium will take the change lightly."

Felix shrugged. "Setting Tevinter on its ear? I see nothing wrong with that. Time for stuffy, outdated ideas to go out the window along with stuffy, outdated magisters that run the country."

"Father is a magister."

"And look at him, changing."

Alexius leaned down to listen to something Fiona had to say, then smiled as she kissed him firmly on the lips.

"And he's… happy?" Fenris asked.

Felix nodded. "He truly is." He gripped Fenris on the shoulder. "I wanted to thank you."

"Er. Thank me?" Fenris looked up at him.

"When you came into our house. I had no idea what was going to happen. We knew… well, we knew of course why you were there, but I never could have predicted this."

"Are you..."

"I'm proud of you, Fenris. And absolutely ecstatic to call you my brother."

Fenris felt a welling of emotion in his chest, his eyes blurring slightly as he held Felix's gaze before blinking quickly and looking away. He took another sip of champagne and smiled, unable to put his feelings to words. Felix gave him a small shove.

"I'll say goodbye at the end of all this. We're going to Antiva City for the honeymoon. Maybe a few other places."

Fenris nodded and watched Felix cross the floor to take Livia back from Dorian. Dorian caught his eye and waved him over. Fenris finished his champagne, set the glass down, and stepped onto the dance floor, into his lover's embrace.

There was still so much work to do, especially once Dorian took office. And Fenris would be with him every step of the way.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And we're done.
> 
> This was an extremely, extremely fun series to write even though I had a lot of bumps along the way. I really do enjoy writing Fenris and exploring his potential. To get him away from the hatred of magic and let him let go of the toxic feelings that Danarius and Hadriana caused. This fic was also really good for me because it helped me explore Dorian's character as well, and he ended up becoming developed right alongside Fenris which was nice to see.
> 
> Thank you so much to everyone who stuck by me with this. 
> 
> To Vee, for kicking my ass hard on a few chapters to make them better. I'm sorry I'm such a butthead sometimes. There's really no way I could've done any of this or my other stories (or the upcoming ones) without you. For just being there for me when I feel like I couldn't do it. For all the cups of coffee that you brought me during the course of this and for listening to me bitch constantly about... well, everything. You are my soulmate. <3
> 
> To Besteck, who kept up the cheerleading the entire way and really ended up becoming one of my best friends over the last month/month and a half. You are a crazy person (mostly because you want to be friends with me, but I'm okay with that).
> 
> To all my readers, thank you for stroking the ego! I appreciate all the comments and kudos. Thanks for taking the time to read my stuff. I'm really glad I can keep contributing to this fandom. It's nice to create things for you guys to appreciate!
> 
> Coming in the next chapter will be artwork! I received quite a bit of art for this story so that'll be up later tonight! Ascension: Missing Moments are in the works and will be posted sporadically over the next couple of weeks while I work on other stuff.
> 
> Coming soon! Please check my profile if you're interested. More with Dorian/Fenris and a lot more Hawke/Anders in the future! Hope to see you all there. :)


	26. Fan Art

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I received an insane amount (for me anyway) of fan art for this series and I wanted to share it all here with one big fan art dump. Thank you so much to everyone who created for this fic. I'm flattered that it inspired you!

By lifeforce:

By Nioelle:  
<http://nioell.deviantart.com/>

By Besteck:  
[fanartdrawer.tumblr.com](http://fanartdrawer.tumblr.com)


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